


Whisk Me Away To Your Dreams

by City_L1ghts



Category: K-pop, Mamamoo
Genre: CEO Moon byul, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I don't know how to use tags.., Love Story, Musicians, Rockstar Yongsun, Romance, Slow Burn, moonsun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/City_L1ghts/pseuds/City_L1ghts
Summary: Young music entrepreneur MoonByul Yi, who founded Moon Star Entertainment Records, has made a significant mark on the music industry in a short period of time. As she struggles to maneuver the intricacies of running a multibillion company, she meets Solar.An up and rising pop Rockstar that tries to maintain the 'art' in the business world. And there's just something about her... that leads her to entangle their lives together.
Relationships: Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul
Comments: 77
Kudos: 361





	1. Who are you?

**Author's Note:**

> It’s like RBW wants to write their own fan fics. 4 universes? Lol. Don’t know where this one’s going to go but I always get overly excited before a comeback and put all the work I should be doing on hold. I blame the way they slay at everything. 
> 
> This is mostly unedited and just me, again. Yay. Please forgive any mistakes. It's a slow build. Maybe stick around...Any feedback or comments are always welcomed :)

It’s only been twenty minutes since she last picked up her phone from her jacket pocket, and she has heard it buzz away, incessantly, for at least another five times. Public relation disasters are not common occurrences for Moonbyul Yi, CEO of Moon Star Entertainment Records, but when they do come, they tend to suck up an inordinate amount of time and energy.

The elevator dings and Byul resists an urge to pick up her buzzing phone again; she really has to start trusting her team to deal with some of these issues, and stop taking everything on herself. She stalks up to her assistant, Minji, and plants both her hands on her desk. Her features morph into one of feigned pain, and her body half collapses with the drop of her head.

“Why do they always do this to me?” Byul groans. Minji is probably one of the few people in the company she would let loose and act so unprofessionally with.

“CEO, why do you think you get paid so much money?” Minji says, wide-eyed and blinking at her with an innocence that mocks. She would only ever call her ‘CEO’ in front of other employees. And also to mock her.

“I mean, how hard is it for him to _not_ get engaged and announce it, then get photographed tongue deep down the mouth of some other equally as famous star in a month. Seriously. I give them freedom, because I _respect_ that. But what I am I supposed to do with this.”

Byul looks up and throws her hands in the air.

Minji shrugs at her with a look of sympathy this time. “Well… I’ve got, like, fifteen other things on your roster, you have a call on line two that’s been waiting for–” Minji glances down at her laptop, “fifteen minutes already. And you have a social at eight this evening, RBW’s hosting a whole bunch of producers and talents.”

“I deserve all that money.” Byul winces as her thoughts fly to mentally organize her day.

“I’ll get your coffee.” Minji smiles at her. “But go, line two.” She points at the phone on her desk, waving Byul away in the direction of her office before getting up.

When Byul picks up the phone to be greeted by a journalist wanting an interview, she wishes she just stayed in bed instead.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Byul emerges out of her office as the clock hits six thirty.

“I was only this– ” She holds up her thumb and index finger pressed together “-close to firing three people today. So, I’d call that an improvement from the last disaster.”

Minji ignores her. “I had your suit picked up, it’s probably at your place now.” 

“What would I do without you?”

“Um…your company would fall apart.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Byul fakes a gasp. “This is superstitious shit.”

Minji scoffs lightheartedly, rolling her eyes once at her, and instead, moves to grab a brown package off her desk.

“Here, probably another portfolio from some indie artist. Do you want to listen to it, or do you want Sandeul to go over it first?”

“No, I want to try and keep doing these things myself first. Unless I just end up dying from all the stress this debacle has caused me.” She sighs loudly. “Just leave it on my desk, please.”

“It’ll blow over, no one really cares enough about these things.” Minji pats her on the hand.

“Well, if it’s not, I really don’t think there’s much I can do anymore.”

“If you drive home fast, you’ll have some time to catch a breath before you go over to the RBW venue. I texted the address to your driver for the event.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I don’t frown upon monetary rewards.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Byul laughs as she walks out. “Put that on a memo for me.”

* * *

The sounds and music from the gathering vibrate off the door of the venue; Byul knows it’s jammed with a cluster of noteworthy people from the entertainment industry. When she opens the door, she’s met with a gust of air and a large animated space, with purple, blue and white lights dancing off a dimly lit banquet style room.

This part of the job is the part she dreads.

It’s not a daily thing, not even a weekly thing, not at this scale; but it happens, once in a while, a necessity to keep everything running– because what is business without a network?

She picks up a small pastry on a tray circulating the clusters of people, and downs a small glass of wine with it. With the turn of arm to place the glass on a table, she bumps into familiar face, Kim Do Hoon.

“Byul Yi!” He smiles at her.

“CEO!”

“I’m glad to see you here, like this.” He leads them a couple steps closer to a pillar, and leans against it.

“You know, back then when you came to me asking for advice, wanting to start your own company– I’ll be honest– I didn’t picture you doing so well in such a short period of time.”

She pretends to be offended, but her wide-spread grin betrays her, and she laughs genuinely at his remark, knowing where he’s coming from.

“I really had a lot of help.”

“It’s also you. You’re good at this.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Well, I learn from the best. Besides, I’m probably making you way more money now _and_ I’m way better off camera. I can do all the stuff you never let me do on camera.” She winks.

“I let you do everything on camera.” There’s a hint of fondness when he sighs.

“No, you just couldn’t stop me.” Byul laughs.

“I could never quite tame your creative side.” He gives a quick shake to his head, “but that’s a good thing.” He pats Byul on the shoulder and turns his focus to a group of people sitting together on couches. “I’m going to go say hi to some other people, give me a call when you want to catch up.”

She nods and reciprocates his smile.

As she makes her own rounds around the venue, interacting and greeting other executives and producers she’s acquainted with, she can feel the red hue from the alcohol make its way up to her cheeks. It’s really not a bad thing; it gives the impression she’s a lot more drunk that she actually is, and in this kind of industry, amongst these kinds of power plays, a little vulnerability never hurt her. Instead, she plays it to her advantage.

It’d take a whole lot more to render her a drunk.

She’s ten minutes too long into a dreary conversation with a producer- new musical tech programming that’s been the ‘talk of the town’- when she notices a small commotion in the corner of the room by a water station. She probably wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t trying so desperately not to fall asleep to this young, overly enthusiastic producer.

It wasn’t anything more than an aggressive arm grab, and probably some strong language, from the look on the guy’s face before he stormed off. What ticks Byul off is the way the girl (who looked equally as angry at the beginning) pulled her furious features to one of forced composure– even as he grabbed her arm. And when he left, all she does is close her eyes for a quick second, before faking a smile and fidgeting with her clothes.

Byul introduces herself eventually. She had to. She wanted to. She catches her as the girl grabs another glass of champagne off the table.

“There are probably better drinks than this here.” Byul moves to take the glass out of her hands.

The girl spins towards her at the sound and the movement.

“Here.” Byul hands her glass of water.

At a closer look now, Byul can really see her. And she really is gorgeous, with her blonde hair and borderline suggestive outfit, that hints at a little at her recklessness. She wears a white crop top, with a series of silver necklaces that dangle at different lengths, accompanied by dark slacks that imitate denim, hanging at all the right places.

The girl laughs at her, holding the glass of water up to her eyes and squinting at it. “Is this supposed to be vodka in disguise or something?”

“You see, the key here is to let everyone _think_ you’re drunk. But not to actually be.” She whispers by her ear.

The girl pulls back at that and gives her a slow once-over, taking in the unusual choice of a suit for these kinds of events. For a moment, there’s an interesting display of amusement that sets Byul off her calm demeanour. Those eyes are so fixated on her; Byul’s breath starts to quicken, finally realizing the close proximity between them.

The girl bites her bottom lip for a quick second before asking, “Who are you?”

“Moon Byul Yi. Or just Byul’s fine.”

Byul wonders if she’s connected the dots yet. She’s not exactly a small figure in the industry anymore, not since she’s debuted two fast climbing artists that went through the ranks and exploded onto the scene.

“Yongsun.” The girl extends a shaky hand that gives a little more of her inebriated mental status away. The way she smiles at Byul lets her know that she has no idea who she is.

But Byul knows who _she_ is now. She kicks herself mentally because she really should’ve realized earlier.

It’s _Solar_, rising pop Rockstar that’s been all over the tabloids ever since she starts to take on more of a ‘pop’ style in her music. She couldn’t tell without the heavy make-up and all the distracting lights flashing everywhere; but now that she knows she can’t _not_ see it.

“You’re Solar.”

“Yeah.” She says and smiles uncomfortably. The grimace she makes at the comment makes Byul back-pedal.

“Who we are doesn’t matter in here.” Byul says ironically, relaxing at the way Yongsun’s grimace disappears at that. “But I’d really stick to the water as much as you can.” She winks.

The way she looks at Byul, with features that encompass relief and exhaustion at the same time, makes her feel unexpectedly affectionate.

“Well…thanks for advice, but I should really be interacting with those people over there.” Yongsun says as she gestures vaguely at the crowd to her left, and sighs. She tries to take a step in that direction, but staggers slightly in her attempt.

On reflex, Byul reaches out to steady her arm, but pulls back when Yongsun stares at her with glassy eyes. “Sorry…Maybe it’s time to call it a night. I can call you a cab.”

At first Yongsun looked confused, then a hint of irritation began to set, and now she tilts her head in question at Byul. “Who _are_ you?”

Yongsun runs fingers through her hair, sweeping her parting farther to a side, and the golden locks fall alluringly there. Her look of confusion doesn’t subside, and after a second, she takes a step closer, and runs a hand up Byul’s arm suggestively, whispering another question, “What do you want?”

Despite Byul’s complete frustration with her own reaction, she can feel herself wanting exactly what she’s hinting at, her eyes sweeping down to her lips for sliver of a moment, wanting to capture it in a heartbeat. She’s upset that she would react exactly the way Yongsun predicted, stereotypical. Disappointing. Probably not unlike Yongsun’s other interactions in the past. 

Byul takes a step back, her voice faltering, “um… I’m…” _This is really not like her._

And then it’s like someone else is suddenly answering her question, when an artist from her company walks by and greets her, bowing and smiling formally. “CEO.”

It takes her a second to pull herself together, but it happens. She makes barely three exchanges with him, before he walks away. And Yongsun’s look of confusion intensifies during it all, until her lips form a small ‘oh’ as the pieces click.

“CEO?”

It’s Byul’s turn to smile uncomfortably. “Yeah…Moon Star…entertainment?”

Even in the haze of her drunkenness, a lucidity snaps into her from the realization.

“Oh… Fuck. Sorry…I don’t really pay attention to all the politics and people. I just… make music.” Yongsun takes another step back, as if trying to undo everything. Her hand runs through her hair again, in nervousness. “But I guess... the question still stands. Did you want something from me?”

This time the question comes genuine. But Byul feels a heaviness at the fact that Yongsun’s default is that someone always wants something from her.

Byul chuckles softly. “No, not really. I just… saw you maybe having a…” She struggles with word choice “–difficult night earlier. So I thought, at least you could make it home from here. Um. Safely.”

Yongsun’s eyes widen at the statement, realizing what Byul was referring to.

“Oh. Right… I’m fine.” The smile that spreads now is taut, perhaps with a little embarrassment at what she thinks is a complete misread of the situation.

“Here. Take this.” Byul whips out a business card from her pocket and offers it to her. “It’s always nice to have another contact here.” She clears her throat in an attempt to ignore the fact she’s doing any of this on a personal agenda.

A soft chuckle escapes Yongsun, and she reaches out for it. “Thanks.” She stays there, studying Byul’s features for an another moment, holding the card in the air, and that flash of amusement from before returns. It’s so quick that Byul can’t pin point what she’s thinking. “I think I’ll head home after all.” Yongsun says at the end.

When Byul nods and leaves Yongsun’s vicinity, she can’t help but turn around again to look for her, not quite able to settle a restlessness that doesn’t subside even as she watches Yongsun walk out of the venue. 


	2. I'm a Fan

Byul laughs out loud when she walks into her office, and proceeds to rips a sticky off the center of her computer screen: ‘Give Minji a raise’. She sticks it down on the side of the table to notice the small package Minji had mentioned the other day, placed aside in the corner.

The brown package gets ripped messily. Byul curses when she sees that she almost tore the headshot of the portfolio, and takes it out carefully.

She’s intrigued, to say the least.

There’s an ethereal quality to this girl, delicate, but there’s something else– a melancholy that somehow seems to be screaming at you. When she plays the demo tape, sent with an accompanying tape player, Byul stops moving and listens with a stillness unlike her. Sending a tape alone caught Byul’s attention, but her voice... it carries a different element altogether.

Byul tapes the headshot roughly against her wall as she listens, pushing off with her feet to roll her chair backwards. She squints her eyes, and holds up her hands, framing the picture in a rectangle with her index finger and thumb. Her hands drop eventually, and she sits starring at the picture, even after the song has finished, thoughts churning.

The silence is broken when Byul abruptly rises from the chair, stalking out of her office. Minji watches her move with a raised eyebrow, but shrugs and counts it as another completely ‘Byul’ thing to do.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

She bombards into Sandeul’s office. He really doesn’t appreciate it– maybe because it’s the third time she’s done it this week. He looks up startled for a second, before realizing what was happening, returning his attention to his desktop as if nothing had happened.

“I have an idea–” Byul starts.

“No.” He doesn’t look away from his screen, only holding a hand up in Byul’s vicinity.

“No. No I’m serious this time.” 

“When are you not?”

“No, here look at this. Look at _her_.” She slaps the headshot on his desk and ruffles his hair to get his attention.

He yelps in response, ducking his head and spinning around. “Dude. Byul, I am going to murder you.”

“Don’t call me dude. Ugh, Listen.” She sighs loudly and tries to jam the earbuds from the player into his ears.

He swats at her hands and takes the buds with his fingers. “What? What is it?”

“A track, a new artist. Just listen first.”

He groans, “What am I going to do with you…I’ll give you five minutes.”

“You’re going to want more than five minutes…” Byul mutters as he leans back and she presses play. Her arms cross and she leans against the wall, chewing on her lip as she watches him listen. The corners of her mouth lift when he looks up at her for a second, eyebrows raising for a quick moment. She almost laughs out loud when he picks up the headshot now, putting two and two together. A minute into the song, he squints his eyes at her and throws her a look, like he’s mad at her for being right. She knows she’s right.

Sandeul stays quiet after pulling the earbuds out, but eventually caves into Byul’s prolonged silence. “Okay. Tell me. What’s your idea?”

“Just tell me I’m right.” She grins. “I am going to make this girl a fucking star.”

“Well, I see you didn’t really come for an opinion.”

“I can see it.” She waves her hand across the air like she’s painting the rainbow. 

He laughs at that. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“Sandeul. Come on. You have to see it. She can be _it_.”

“You’re not… wrong. She’s good, like really good.”

“Do you think Hyejin would write for her? I mean, with both of us on board, you’ll make it work right? This style is totally up her alley. She sounds versatile. Doesn’t she?”

Byul’s excitement and intent to rope Hyejin in has Sandeul a little taken back, which also meant Sandeul knows Byul wants to go all in with this. Byul initially brought Sandeul on as her marketing director, but eventually found out he was capable of a whole lot more than just marketing; his musical sense blew her away. Now Sandeul essentially dabbles in all the departments, and she can’t help but need him with most of her decisions.

“You’re really going to do this aren’t you?” He sighs.

“Why do you think I’m in here?”

“You came in here to show me a picture of your dog the other day.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t come with this.” She jabs a finger at the picture on the table.

“You don’t want to think it over first?”

“I did. Just now.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “What’s her name?”

“Jung Wheein.”

He squeezes the back of his neck with a hand and leans back on his chair. “Hm. I could make it work. Set up a team meeting.”

“Ugh. I knew you’d get it.” She laughs and reaches to mess his hair again, but he grabs her wrist this time.

“Don’t you- fucking. Dare.”

She’s still laughing when she walks back to her office.

* * *

The next time Byul actually sees Yongsun is after an award show, maybe a month later. Half the crowd was still lingering and chatting, and people were flitting in and out of the back stage area. She’s seen Yongsun plenty, on screens and billboards, blown up and lacking a reality she felt in person. Yongsun never called her– not that she expected her to.

So when she approaches her at the award show, Byul’s startled to say the least. It’s probably half to do with the fact that Yongsun is wearing this black-laced sleeveless gown. The fabric over her collar-bone area is see-through, revealing a slip of cleavage. She doesn’t look there.

“Moon Byulyi– ssi?” Yongsun says to get her attention.

It takes a second for Byul to recover, and when she does, she repeats, “Byulyi–_ ssi_?”

A look of fluster flashes across Yongsun’s features, and she opens her mouth momentarily, only to end up closing it, and smiles awkwardly instead.

“I don’t remember you being this formal the last time…” Byul teases.

“About that… That was… unprofessional.”

Byul can’t help but find her embarrassment a little amusing given her flare last time, albeit neither of them were exactly clear headed last time, especially Yongsun. “It’s fine.” She brushes off. “We have enough of _professional_ in front of cameras.”

As if on reflex, Yongsun takes a quick glance around the room. Her eyes widen, whispering, “Right. I can’t imagine anyone here is smiling genuinely after that fifteenth award.” 

Byul laughs out loud at the glimpse of actual honesty.

There’s that spark in Yongsun’s gaze again, like she’s intrigued by something, and she breaks out into a wide smile that stretches across her face. Byul finds herself reciprocating it.

“You know, there’s something I didn’t tell you last time.” Byul says.

Yongsun looks at her in question, waiting.

“I’m a fan.”

This only makes Yongsun more confused, and her eyebrows furrow. Byul has to hold back her laughter.

“Is it that hard to understand?” Byul lets out a chuckle then. “I like your music.”

“You’re a fan…?” Byul can see her try and hold back a smile now, her lips pursing ever so slightly with a rise to the corner of her lips; it’s weirdly attractive, the unintended humbleness. 

“Yeah.” Byul reiterates.

Yongsun’s eyes narrow for a second. “You’re just messing with me, aren’t you…”

Byul splutters. “Oh my god. Okay… uh…‘_Kill me slowly’_”

“What?”

“It’s one of your songs–” Byul rolls her eyes once. “Maybe second or third album? I’ve never seen an artist pull off acoustic rock the way you do.”

There’s a desperation to her music that’s enticing. Byul doesn’t say this.

“Oh. You weren’t joking.” That tug at the corner of Yongsun’s lips goes a little higher, and she fiddles with one of the sequins on her dress, but she never lets up that gaze.

“No…”

“That was… a long time ago.” Yongsun laughs softly. “I can’t believe you know that song. I don’t… make songs like that anymore.” She stares down at the floor awkwardly, betraying the thought that she said a little more than she intended. Byul notices she tends to chew on her bottom lip if she’s nervous.

“Well that’s a pity. What you do is special.”

Surprise flashes across Yongsun’s eyes. She hesitates for a moment but then says, “I miss it.”

“You should do it then.”

Yongsun’s scoff is filled with contempt, telling a story in itself. “It’s not that simple. You should know.”

“I do know. That’s what I am trying to change with my company.” It's stated so simply that Yongsun doesn’t respond.

Byul finds herself breaking eye-contact to regain a composure she didn’t realize she was losing. She swallows hard during the period of silence; it feels like Yongsun always has a dozen different expressions that she just can’t quite figure out how to read yet.

That silence suddenly breaks when Yongsun glances in a direction behind Byul and gasps, moving to tug them towards the wall on their left. She quickly steps into Byul’s space, using her as a human shield.

“Fuck. My manager’s over there.” She mutters.

Byul can feel the hand on her wrist. It’s warm. She doesn’t know what to do with this turn of events.

“You’re hiding from your manager?”

“Yes.”

“Why…?” Byul tries to turn around to look. Yongsun takes her head with both her hands and turns her around.

“Don’t look! He’s going to see me.”

They both suddenly realize the position they’re in and Yongsun drops her face like a hot potato.

“So… why are we doing this…?” Byul whispers comically.

“The after-party. He wants me there– I don’t know- to entertain or something. Network. _You know_.” She makes a face at Byul that makes her chuckle.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s terrible.” Byul stands a little taller and holds the collar of her shirt up to fulfil her role as a shield. “I’ll try and do a better job at hiding you.”

Yongsun laughs.

It’s genuine. So much so that Byul can see a little more of what’s under the whole façade. “You really are much more than how you portray your public image.” Byul utters. She was mostly thinking out loud.

Yongsun raises an eyebrow. “What _is_ my public image…?”

“I don’t know.” But Byul actually wants to answer the question. “Dark? Funny…Umm…Vulnerable. Provocative.”

Yongsun’s breath catches.

“They’re smart for marketing that.”

“You really are a fan aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah. Die hard.” Byul winks at her.

Yongsun grins at her. “Don’t tease me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. If I remember correctly…” Byul can hear her heart beating in her ears. This wasn’t an obligatory chat anymore, she can feel it, like that other night, the wave of desire to do something completely inappropriate here.

Byul clears her throat to break the moment, taking one of Yongsun’s wrist into her hand instead. “Come on, let me get you out of here without him seeing.” She hushes by her right ear. She can hear Yongsun inhale rather sharply, and she knows she’s got to leave– before she does something stupid.

They stumble their way across the venue. Byul can’t seem to figure out who they’re trying to avoid, but keeps them close by the wall, following the direction of Yongsun’s tugs as she glances around.

Eventually they reach the coat room.

“Thanks for getting me out.” Yongsun murmurs.

“Don’t worry about it. I spend half my time protecting my artists from crazy people.”

Yongsun chuckles at that.

They proceed to exchange pleasantries that seem awkward given how the last fifteen minutes went. It stops when Yongsun tells her about her concert in a couple weeks.

“I can get you tickets, if you find the time to come...”

Byul barely hesitates before she says, “Save me a seat. A good one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I tried to think of a way to write Hyejin as president. Lol. I don’t know how. So…. producer/composer it is…she’ll have more of a role later on…


	3. Art Should Be Recognized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos!!!!! (I know I’m pretty slow at this…but I’m getting pumped about this story!) Merry Christmas!! Or Happy Holidays :) Hope you guys like it!

Hyejin has large silver headphones on, and is perched on a chair with one knee up in an oversized jacket that almost engulfs her in the seat. She’s bent over a panel of musical equipment in the recording studio, immersed, her head bobbing to a beat. Typical. Byul sees all this through a slit of glass on the door. The sound insulation is a little too well-done to let her make out what she’s playing with.

The door slides open quietly, but it’s like Hyejin senses her presence, spinning around and pulling the headphones off one ear. She raises her eyebrows in question, asking Byul what she’s doing here.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Byul shakes her head at her and stands with her arms crossed at the door. “You forgot, didn’t you. We literally had the meeting last week.”

Hyejin’s eyes narrow suspiciously and an expression halfway between guilt and confusion spreads. “Uh… right. Yeah. We’re supposed to… what?”

“We’re auditioning Wheein today.”

Hyejin makes a little ‘o’ with her mouth, the recollection evident now. “Who? Your hippie artist?” She chuckles at her own joke and Byul moves to shove her lightly on the shoulder, collapsing into a chair next to her.

“A _versatile_ hippie artist.”

“I played through the rest of her tracks. How does gold just land itself on your lap?” Hyejin turns serious for a second. “Half of those were originals.”

Byul smiles at the look Hyejin pulls, it’s not exactly easy to impress her.

“Don’t look so smug. We don’t how she is live.” Hyejin says.

Byul takes Hyejin’s face between her palms and squishes it. “I am _trying_ to plan our future here.”

Hyejin doesn’t move, just looks at her with features morphed and unimpressed. “You don’t even know if she wants to sign us yet.”

“Who wouldn’t want to sign us?” Byul lets go and waves her hands once in the air.

“Maybe you should tone down the crazy later, so she doesn’t find out you’re an insane woman.”

“Don’t put it like you’re not dying to work with her.” Byul retorts.

_ _ _ _ _

When Wheein walks in, the room is uncomfortably quiet. Sandeul and another staff is seated behind a table at the back. Byul randomly pulls up two chairs, for Hyejin to sit with her, in the middle of the room. Perhaps this ought to make it less formal. It doesn’t really.

Wheein’s shy, is what first comes to mind after their exchanges, also polite, elegant mostly.

“Show us what you can do.” Byul gestures lightly.

It’s what they’ve heard on the recording, and there’s that same delicacy to it live, a precision to her runs that Byul wants to play with on a track. She notices a quiver to her voice though, like she’s holding something back, nervous or restrained.

To Byul’s surprise, Hyejin stops her mid-song and walks over, picking up a mic on the way before telling her to start again. Wheein looks at her apprehensive for a second.

But then they sing.

Hyejin sings harmonies above her chorus, and she nods at Wheein to take the next verse. Byul realizes she’s getting her to loosen up, and it works.

When Hyejin gets her to dance next, it’s like she changes to another person, all within the span of second.

Her hips sway, movements sharp and defined but dripping with fluidity. Her eyes are focused, tongue darting out to lick her lips quickly. Byul can’t help but think: there’s sex appeal alright. She couldn’t stop watching her– the musicality with every gesture. When the song ends, Byul notices Hyejin smiling, more like smirking in Hyejin’s case, pleased that this brought out something else entirely.

“We’ll sign you.” Byul blurts out once the room silent again and Wheein is standing there waiting patiently. Sandeul looks at her like she’s lost her head.

“That’s it?” Wheein asks, wide-eyed and curious now.

Byul smirks at the duality that exists in this girl; it’s as if the last performance never happened. “Yeah…That’s it. You have quite the voice.”

Hyejin elbows her in the flank, recovering a lot quicker than Sandeul did with Byul’s decision. _Don’t be gross. _“What she’s saying is, everything else will start rolling if you decide to sign. But it’s your choice. Make the right one.”

Byul rolls her eyes at her. “Right. That too.”

Hyejin widens her eyes at Byul for moment, and Byul takes the hint, asking Wheein to wait outside for a while.

“What did you think?” Byul asks openly to the room once she’s gone.

“What did we think?” Sandeul repeats. “I think that question normally comes before you tell them we’re signing them.”

Byul looks at him sheepishly.

“It’s not like I disagree.” He huffs. “She’s…got potential. Girl can dance.”

“There’s more.” Hyejin says quietly, physically looking like she’s confused and pondering. “She’s… she’s something. She just– I don’t know… needs a push. There’s _something_ though.”

Byul’s lips quirk up, it’s funny seeing Hyejin so wound up. Byul watches her scratch the back of her head spaced out or still in thought, as the conversation veers towards logistics. They eventually pull Wheein back into the room, and Byul doesn’t miss the glint in Hyejin’s eyes, like she’s charmed and trying to tone it down.

This is exactly what she wanted to happen.

They hand Wheein the paperwork to look over, and Byul has a feeling they’re going to see a lot more of her.

* * *

Three weeks before Yongsun’s concert Byul gets a text from her. Yongsun sends her the tickets she promised. Plural. There’s four attached e-tickets to an email, and it says, ‘Hope you can make it, enjoy the seats…”

Byul ends up asking Hyejin to come along with her. Hyejin had replied: “Yeah. I know you don’t have any other friends to invite. Who are we seeing?” So now the two of them are clambering upstairs, searching for the entrance to their area. Byul can’t seem to remember the last time she attended a concert for someone she wasn’t directly involved with managing in some way.

They walk through the venue and eventually get ushered to their seat. The lights are dim when they get directed into a private area, and the usher swings a beam of light around.

She really went overboard with the seating, Byul thinks.

Byul nods to a couple other well-known faces as they step into a private booth of sorts, seating about ten-twenty people. It sits higher than the standing areas, a fraction more isolated, but obviously centered at the perfect location for the stage.

“Shit. You’re becoming important if artists are gifting seats like these to you.” Hyejin mutters as they slide across the front row.

“Shut up. You love expensive shit like this.”

“I never said I’m not loving it. When are we going to have artists performing at stadiums like these?”

“Oh, we will…” Byul says to herself more than anything.

The lights start to fade out after a good twenty minutes, and the crowd erupts with noise when a flash of lights signal the start. Two songs in, one thing was clear, the woman knew how to play an audience. It didn’t matter what song really. She found a way to mark it as a performance, a completely different feel than her recordings.

For a second, Byul actually misses performing on stage, even though the concept is distant and almost foreign to her now. She can feel the energy coming off the audience.

Halfway through the show, in-between songs, Yongsun stands alone, lit up singularly in the middle of a dark stage. She’s a little short of breath after the last song, and she slows herself as she paces in a small circle, reaching for a bottle of water momentarily. 

“The next one I’m going play is something going a while back.” Her voice echoes loudly across the stadium, amplified by the lack of other sounds. “Because someone recently reminded me to keep holding onto something I love, and this song has little bit of my heart and soul in it. So this one’s for all those who stuck by me since then.”

Byul sits up.

_No fucking way_. She grabs Hyejin’s arm next to her. Hyejin raises an eyebrow at her, but Byul’s already turned her attention back to the stage.

“It’s a little song from way back when: ‘_Kill Me Slowly’_. Hope you enjoy it.”

Byul stops breathing for a second.

The lights fade out completely, until all Byul can see are glow sticks and aisle lights. A warm white light flashes twice and disappears, and Byul can make out Yongsun half sitting on a high stool now, with one leg bent and a worn guitar hanging by a strap. The lights flash again but stay this time, and then there’s a stripped-down strum coming from her guitar.

She’s really playing it.

She knows Yongsun can’t see her from all the way up in this booth, but she’s grinning ear to ear.

Everything about the lyrics talks about being slow; the eternity of time, pain and love. But the track– the sounds, the tempo, the melody– it builds, and it becomes _fast_. When the bass line and drums comes in mid-song, Yongsun stands and swings her guitar behind her, strutting across the stage.

Byul forgets to blink. The way she embodies the stage: she fills it, commands it. She does it all with the backgrounds remaining simple, letting her voice pull the spotlight. Byul recognizes the changes she throws into the song, letting the runs flow freely as she actually enjoys the stage.

After the song ends, Hyejin turns to her left ear. “Well, fuck. I should’ve gone to see her live earlier.”

“Yeah…” Byul trails indistinctly; she never would’ve thought she’d do this live. Not like this. 

_ _ _ _ _ _

When the show ends, Byul starts to weave her way to the backstage with Hyejin close behind her. It’s cluttered, and busy, full of people marching around with intent and haste. She spots her more than several feet away, surrounded by people flitting around her.

Up close, it was different than looking at her distant figure on the stage. It’s hard to focus on anything but her. She’s not completely unaware of the way she is staring.

But there’s a lot to look at. The amount of skin showing with her neon bodysuit from the last stage. The glitter over all that skin, spanning her neck and collarbones. The hair, originally set to perfection, now tousled after performing. And little golden sequins, glued around her eyes.

Yongsun's eyes meet hers then. The way she looks so carefree, messy and out-of-breath, makes it somehow... seductive. 

She’s still far away, caught up in conversation with three other people around her, but she’s only looking at her. It takes a second for realization with both parties and then Yongsun’s smiling at her, genuine and playful; Byul could almost see the adrenaline coursing through her.

* * *

Yongsun could feel her skin tingling, and her breaths come quick as she makes her way down the stairs. It’s been three hours since she first walked onto stage, but somehow she feels euphoric still, more energized than when she started. The whole process like a drug every time. She thanks the crew as she makes her way down through the backstage area, ripping her earpiece out and chugging down water.

She would never get tired of the simplicity of standing on stage in front of an audience, with just her and a mic. It’s moments like these that put everything else disproportionately out of perspective.

The wide smile she sports comes unconsciously when she realizes Byul actually showed up. She makes her way over to her and suddenly becomes self-conscious of her song choice earlier. It felt like something she needed to do for herself, but now standing in front of her, it feels vulnerable, like Byul knows too much about her.

Hyejin clears her throat, waiting to be introduced.

Byul blinks and Yongsun tries not to laugh at her break her line of gaze. She’s not a prude. She’s not completely unaware of how she looks right now, just like that night they met, she has to hold back an impulse to make an improper comment.

Byul wasn’t like everyone else. She barely knows her. But...there’s always _something_ she does that catches her off-guard. She just won’t ever admit that out loud.

“This is Hyejin. One of our producers.” After a beat, Byul waves a hand in the air awkwardly.

Yongsun smiles at the two of them as they rain praise on her performances, the sincerity of their comments making her feel out of her element. She starts to shuffle uncoordinatedly on the spot. And then Byul unexpectedly says, “you know, if your contract permits, I’d love to collaborate sometime.”

Yongsun thinks she misheard her for a second. Then she’s trying to formulate some words, because, it’s the last thing she thought she’d ask, and actually, yes, she thinks she’d love to. But why?

In the time she’s spent coordinating her thoughts, Byul smiles uncomfortably and runs fingers through her hair.

“It’s just… I think art should be recognized.” Byul says quietly.

There it is again, Yongsun thinks. She says things that throw her so askew it’s hard to remember what they were talking about before. She tries to reciprocate that same gentle look Byul had, and realizes that she needs to actually say some words.

“I’d love to.” She blurts. 

She’s collaborated before. It must be in the contract somewhere.

Yongsun watches Hyejin’s eyebrows go higher and higher, and picks up on the fact that this is probably as unforeseen to her as it was for Yongsun. That brings a different degree of amusement for her.

Byul grins at her then, and Yongsun’s glad she said yes, even if she's wondering where her impulsivity came from. 


	4. Rules that are bendable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… it’s been, like, a month. The goal was not a month, but you know, life’s a bitch. You might have to re-read the beginning for this one. It’s a little longer, hope that makes up for it. Thanks for all the comments!! They really do make my day :) Let me know what you think!

She gets a text from Yongsun. Byul was expecting an email or something (not that the text wasn’t formal, it was.) There’s a bit of push back for the collaboration, apparently, but it works out– more pleasantries that Byul ends up navigating.

It’s not about that though. Byul could care less about the publicity and all the other minutia that’s clearly there to protect Solar’s brand.

She honestly just wanted to make a song, but she assumes that simplicity is lost on most others.

They end up texting about trivial things like logistics and small-talk.

Minji grumbles when Byul asks her to schedule in the meetings for her, partly due to Yongsun’s limited availability. She chastises her for not handing it off earlier. Perhaps it was also because she should have been contacting Yongsun’s manager instead, so maybe she stepped over a couple toes.

But that’s a fine line– these kinds of rules are bendable. 

Byul ends up writing most of the demo for the song in another week and bullies Hyejin into fixing it up. Hyejin spends most of the time making underhanded comments about how Byul is acting like a groupie. She chooses not to fuel that fire.

_ _ _ _ _

Yongsun arrives with two other people, of course. Byul sees them from down the hall, and then Minji’s pointing towards Byul’s direction, and all parties are bowing.

She chooses the nice studio room, because it’s all about first impressions. Then after a couple seconds of fiddling with the equipment, again, she realizes she nervous– about what? She has no idea.

By the time they walk into the studio, Byul recognizes him.

She didn’t at first, but after they shook hands, she finally places him. It was that social, the party where she met Yongsun. _My manager_, Yongsun says. Byul grits her teeth at that memory, some things make more sense now.

Yongsun holds a hand out to him, silently asking for her bag, which apparently he was holding. He leans in to say something quietly, something Byul couldn’t pick out from across the room. Meanwhile, she is just trying to smile pleasantly through all this.

Yongsun turns to her embarrassed for a second, and mutters something to him, _it’s fine, don’t be rude_, or something along those lines.

To Byul’s surprise, the rest of her staff ends up leaving. Yongsun ends up sitting awkwardly across the coffee table in the studio from her. This kind of silence, Byul doesn’t know what to do with. “Let’s see, we can get started with…” She shuffles some papers on the table around.

But then she couldn’t help herself, so she asks out-of-context and inappropriately, “he doesn’t… uh, he doesn’t, like, hurt you right?”

“Wha– .” Byul can see the sequence of thoughts running through her mind. She’s confused at first, like she misheard her, because why would Byul even ask that. Byul wonders if she even knows what she’s referring too, it wasn’t like Yongsun was sober that night.

But the clarity of how she speaks, says otherwise.

There’s surprise when she connects the dots, and then a small self-conscious laugh when she realizes what Byul was insinuating.

“Oh. God no. It’s not like that. I would’ve left.” Yongsun trails and the words are genuine enough that Byul doesn’t question it. She waits for her to continue. She doesn’t.

“Okay, good.” She says, deciding to drop whatever it was that she started.

“So what’s it like? Being famous and all.” Byul starts again after a beat.

Yongsun makes a sound of laughing without any indication of it on her face. “Overrated.” She pauses. “Don’t get me wrong. I love music. There is this... pressure though.”

“To be perfect.” Byul finishes absentmindedly for her.

“Yeah, that.”

“But that’s not it.” She says, reading Yongsun's face.

“No. It’s not.” Yongsun hesitates for a second, “it’s, like, the need to be someone else. To… impress. I don’t know, flirt sometimes, I guess. Most people tend to respond well to that.”

“They tell you to do that?”

“No… they don't exactly say these things out loud…” Yongsun breaks out into an awkward laugh.

“Why do you put up with it?”

“You know how all this works. Don’t deny it, you’re a CEO. It’s not like I’m losing anything.”

“That’s… not what it seems like.”

Yongsun’s eyes narrow for just a second, and there’s a flash of anger. “Don’t pretend you know what I’ve experienced.”

Byul backs up. “I didn’t.”

“Sorry. Fuck. It’s just not that simple.” Yongsun sighs. “If you know the right people, and they like you? You get further a whole lot faster.” She picks at the piece of paper in front of her. “Why’d you think I got a full album out in a under a year back then?”

Byul hates this part. The games and the politics. “I don’t like it. The game.” Byul says quietly.

A scornful laugh escapes Yongsun. “No. Of course not.”

“What?” Byul challenges with a tilt of her head.

“You’re idealistic. It’s fine. It’s obviously worked for you.”

Byul scrunches her eyes closed for a second, taking a deep breath through her nose. When she opens them, Yongsun’s features are blank and she sits, hands clasped together on her lap, waiting for Byul to reply.

Byul sighs, her expression changing decisively, and to Yongsun’s surprise, she gets up and moves to Yongsun’s seat, putting both hands on her shoulders from behind.

Perhaps it was the way Yongsun was sitting, impassive but brewing an underlying current of impatience. Byul always got the impression this girl had so much more to say than she was actually saying. So she’s going to give her a way to say it.

“You know what– ” Byul starts, and pulls her to stand, ushering her to the adjacent room with the recording mic.

“Wha– ”

“Just– shh. Ignore what we were talking about. Let’s just start recording now. We can talk later.”

Yongsun looks at her, unconvinced, and breaks out into something between a laugh and a scoff. “What? You want me to sing. Now.”

“Yeah, emotions are good. You look mad. So sing it.”

A laugh slips out now, the completely unforeseen request resulting in quite the opposite, as Yongsun’s irritation dissipates. “I’m not mad.”

Byul raises an eyebrow.

“You are so weird.” Yongsun shakes her head, but her face dances from confusion to a playfulness. After a second, she shrugs her shoulders once with the raise of a hand in surrender, _okay, whatever you say_.

“Stay.” Byul shuffles her some more to stand in front of the large hanging mic, and shuts the door behind her. She’s able to see Yongsun through the tinted glass panel where she’s sitting, and she presses a button to turn on her mic.

“Can you hear me?”

Yongsun nods.

“Did you listen to the demo? You know it?”

“Yeah.”

“Just take it wherever you want, we’ll fix it after.” Byul’s met with an uncertain nod this time, but a nod nonetheless, cuing her to run the track.

Her fingers glide over the panel as she fiddles with settings, but she gives up fairly quickly, sitting back into her chair and choosing to just listen instead.

It feels like she’s back at her concert for a second, but this time it’s intimate, more tangible than sitting a stadium away from her. She can see her head tilt and her eyes squeeze tight when she belts a note. Byul ends up letting the track run– doesn’t make an attempt to cut her off. It makes sense, the way she wrote the song for her, but still, Yongsun takes it somewhere else.

It’s unpredictable.

Byul smacks her mic on when she’s done, “and that– is how you make a masterpiece,” she grins.

“Don’t exaggerate.” Yongsun’s voice comes out through the speakers.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s redo the second verse. But admit it– the extra emotion helps right?”

“You are _so_ weird.” A suppressed smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“They say weird makes art.” Byul starts to move the tracks around, sequentially clicking on the computer.

“No they don’t.”

* * *

It takes three seconds for Hyejin to spot Byul emerging from the elevator doors and then Byul is suddenly holding one less cup in her hands.

“Oh, good, how did you know I needed a coffee?” Hyejin says.

Byul tries to pluck the cup back out of Hyejin’s hands but she dodges to the side. “Damn it Hyejin, that one’s for Minji.”

Byul gives up and sighs, continuing to strut down the hallway towards her office with Hyejin close behind, sipping carefully at the hot liquid. Byul drops the remaining coffee in her hand next to Minji’s rapidly typing fingers and gets a smile and a quick look up, “it’s like you can read my mind.”

“What is it?” Byul asks after she plops all her things down in her office and Hyejin similarly plops onto the couch by her desk.

“Nothing. I literally saw you holding fancy coffee and it distracted me from my initial task.”

“It’s like I hired imbeciles.”

“I am actually offended.” Hyejin says nonchalant, lifting only her head in her splayed out position. “You are not getting this coffee back.” She makes a point at awkwardly trying to sip at the coffee in that position.

“Well are you here to take a nap? At eight in the morning?”

“Are we finally going to talk about it?” Hyejin shifts to sit up a little more.

“Talk about what?”

“What’s with this collaboration with Yongsun?” The way her eyes tinkle with its slight narrowing implies a lot more than her question.

Byul looks towards Hyejin with clear confusion, but is met with eyes that narrow even more and a singular head shake, _don’t bullshit me._

Byul purses her lips for a moment, “don’t do that.”

It easy enough for them to read what each other is trying to say.

“What? Don’t make an obvious conclusion based on your obvious actions?” Hyejin exclaims knowingly.

It seems like Byul is trying to say something genuine for a moment – Hyejin can tell by the way she avoids eye contact– but that dissipates quickly and she knows she’s not going to get anything out of Byul. “Yes. Fine. I’m a fan. She sings well." Byul gestures towards Hyejin. "_You’re_ a fan. We’re making a song. Stop exaggerating, it’s really _that _simple.”

Hyejin sighs. “Any more statements you’d like to add to that?”

“Yes. You’ve been highly unproductive.”

“Don’t change the topic.”

“You’ve been working on Wheein’s songs for how long? She’s already started training, you can stop holding back now.”

“I’m not holding back.”

“I actually want to debut her within the year.”

“You’re like a child, would it kill you to have some patience?”

Byul sighs this time. “I think I’m just stressed.”

“If you want to debut her so bad, throw her into your little collaboration with your ultra-famous Rockstar.”

“She’s not _mine– _” Byul’s eyes widen for a second. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Wait, what. I was kidding.”

“Why? You’re right. It works.”

“So you’re assuming Yongsun is fine with that?”

“I know her, she’ll be fine with it.”

“_I know her._” Hyejin imitates her. “_It’s really that simple,_” she continues.

Byul pulls a finger against her own lips. “Shh. No more words from you.”

Hyejin rolls her eyes so far back her head tilts.

“I’m going to do it.” Byul says, more to herself than anything.

Hyejin’s grimace is followed by a long, exaggerated groan, “you are a literal dictator. Why do I even exist here?”

Byul shakes her head at her and repeats, _shhh_.

* * *

Byul ends up calling her. She was reminded of Minji’s last lecture for her, but decided against her better judgement. It’s probably what makes it easier when she brings up her ideas about Wheein, which out of the confines of her conversation with Hyejin, was actually a lot harder to ask, seeing as they pretty much recorded the whole song last time already.

Unsurprisingly, she says yes. She even offers to meet with Wheein, who– let’s be fair– is as relevant as any pedestrian down the street.

Byul finds out she’s maybe a _little_ obsessed with tteokbokki, so she ironically takes her to a tattered old stall she knows of, as a thank you. It’s run by this old man who tells stories as if he’s lived three lives, and that’s perhaps the smallest appeal of the place.

Yongsun goes wearing three times the amount of clothes an ordinary person wears– not including the cap and mask– and Byul can’t blame her because the last thing she needed was to fight off a fanatic crowd in that tiny stall for her.

The first time she comes wearing all that, Byul laughs out loud, because, what a dork.

The third time, Byul pays the old man a little extra to let them eat right after closing. She may have flaunt the famous card a little harder than she needed to.

He makes a quip at them when they leave about how famous people are overtaking the world these days, and Byul throws a look at Yongsun that makes her chuckle.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Byul says, as they walk out.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll call the company car.”

“What, and wait for a hoard to recognize you without your triple layer protection?”

Yongsun squeezes her eyes close with a laugh. “Okay, fine, you’re right.”

_ _ _ _ _

In the car, it’s dark, and a comfortable silence sits around them. But then at some point, Yongsun gets a text, and now she’s all uncomfortable and fidgety in her seat.

"You okay?"

“I don’t know what he wants from me.” Yongsun murmurs after a minute, it sounds like a slip – something more personal than what she usually diverges.

“Your CEO?” Byul tries to make an educated guess from their conversations, because if she’s talking about anyone else, Byul doesn’t know what to do with that information. She hates that her mind went there.

“Yeah. I don’t know. All of them? Sometimes…I feel like… an object.”

“Was it always like that?”

“No. But it’s been five years, I can’t tell.” Yongsun’s staring out the window, and Byul catches glimpses of her reflection with a side glance.

“You think...you want out?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. It’s more complicated than that.”

“So you keep saying.”

“There’s _a way _to do things, you know?”

Byul’s insecurities slips through for just a second. “Is that why you got to know me?”

But it’s enough for Yongsun’s gaze to snap up over to stare at Byul’s side profile. Byul might have thought there was a physical blow with the speed that it happens. Those eyes flip from shock to confusion, and Byul’s hands clenches on the steering wheel.

She turns into Yongsun’s place at that point, and the way the car rolls to a stop gravitates the whole question.

It’s hard to tell with the momentary glances at her before, but now she’s sure it’s just disappointment now, and Yongsun’s smiling in a way like it’s painful for her.

“You think I’d befriend you to climb my way up?”

Byul knows she shouldn’t have asked. She could actually start to read the little tell-tales on Yongsun’s face after spending this time together; a sincerity she just undermined.

“No.” She states with a force. “No, I don’t. I… just– you said before, about it all being easier… knowing the right people… I don’t know. Forget it.”

Yongsun listens to her talk with an unreadable expression – bites so hard on her bottom lip Byul thinks she might draw blood.

There’s a couple seconds of silence where she can see Yongsun struggle to find her words, an anger beginning to flare in her eyes.

“_You_ asked to make the song– ”

“I know–”

“I’m not doing this to further my fucking career Byul. I don’t need that.” Yongsun scrunches her face together at the sound of her own arrogance. 

“That’s not– ”

“That night we met–” Yongsun starts suddenly, pulling Byul’s focus back to her eyes. _“You_ came over. And yeah, I fucked around with you. I wasn’t even sober. But you. You’re not like… everyone.”

It’s maybe the first time they’ve actually acknowledged whatever it was that was going on between them.

Yongsun continues. “My company didn’t really want to approve of _this_.” She waves a hand between them. “None of this is my _scheduled_ time. It’s _my_ time. My manager was not fucking impressed he had to come along that once.” Yongsun scoffs at that. “Don’t–”

Somehow those words bring a clarity Byul didn’t see before.

“So you did something _you_ wanted for once.” Byul says.

“What?”

“You– you always look like you’re going to say something, something you _mean_ but then you stop, like you’ve determined it’s not right to say. You have people watching you, following you all the time. When was the last time you did something _you_ wanted to do?”

Yongsun spends a full three seconds starring at her, taken back by the question. She chews on her lip again, and her eyes are scrutinizing Byul so much that it’s hard to maintain eye contact. It’s hard to predict what she’s going to say.

“This.” Yongsun says quietly after.

Byul stays silent.

“This.” She repeats. “I actually wanted– ” She stops talking.

Then it’s like something snapped in Yongsun. Byul can feel her throat tightening, she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep looking into her eyes.

“What?” Byul says so quietly she could barely hear herself.

“I–” Yongsun falters now, eyes darting down towards her lap.

But then she looks up, eyes wide like she’s figured it out. "_Fu__ck._"

And the way she says it is so quiet, yet so _obscene_, whatever dwindling resolve Byul had to keep this professional goes out the window.

It happens quickly. Yongsun leans over the console of the car and lightly grips the collar of Byul’s shirt, hovering for a fraction of a second to wait for her response. But there’s little to be questioned regarding Byul’s response to her intent.

It’s soft, almost_ too_ soft, and only serves to tighten the tension inside Byul, because there’s this need now. She can taste her lip balm.

They pull back after a good couple of seconds, and Byul can still feel her against her lips. She gets it then, in that moment staring at her; it's all over her face, a vulnerability so obvious now. It’s what Byul was waiting for– for that _composure _of hers to break, like she finally got to something real. 

Yongsun touches her own lips for a second – disbelief about what just happened– her thumb quickly taking over to wipe the corner of her lips.

Byul can see panic slip into her eyes a little. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t– ” Yongsun starts, reality sinking in a little more.

“No, don’t. I wanted to.”

A bit of calm returns. “Okay...” There’s only silence again, one that Byul isn’t sure she wants to fill, and it’s not the comfortable one like before all this happened. “Uh… maybe I should just go.” Yongsun says after a second. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Byul doesn’t know how to broach the complexity of their situation in that moment, and she certainly didn’t want to do in this car. Her hands goes back to clutching the steering wheel after Yongsun slips out of the car.


	5. What do you want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm slow. But I do love writing this. Hope this one's entertaining too... As always, comments/feedback welcomed.

The music in the room cuts off abruptly and Yongsun’s choreographer yells, “okay, let’s call it a day. We’ll pick up the rest in a couple.”

Yongsun licks her dry lips and tripods with her hands on her knees, taking large gulps of air. She can feel the sting at the back of throat from the heavy breathing and swallows roughly. It somehow makes the sting worse.

She hasn’t been thinking about it.

It’s been two days.

She’s been _trying _to not think about it.

It’s not possible to _not _think about it. Because the memory is just _there, _constantly, to chastise her about her complete lack of self-control. There’s this point of no return, and of course, she would step over it.

She had sent her a text the morning after. _Hey, maybe we should talk._

And now it’s been two days. Nothing.

So, no matter how many times she’s runs the sequence of events in her head, she doesn’t know what to make of it any more.

She straightens up from her tripoding and looks at her reflection in the mirror. It’s ragged, and not in the attractive way. The room is under ventilated and mildly stale, making her rub at her nose unconsciously with the back of her hand.

Learning choreography is like going to boot camp, she decides. She glances at her dancers behind her, leisurely sipping on water. Damn their fitness. But she refuses to give up control over her live performances. If she gets to do one thing, she wants a say in that.

Someone chucks a bottle at her and they cheer lightheartedly when she catches it. She doesn’t usually. It’s a running joke between them, her lack of grace behind the scenes.

The moment her eyes land on the clock, the door slips open and her manager’s head pops around. He raises his eyebrows at her, side-stepping into the room, and she knows he’s referring to the meeting she has with her CEO.

“You’re going to be late,” he murmurs as she walks over, and she wonders if he has a personal opinion about anything, or if he’s actually just an arbitrary extension of her CEO.

She tells him she’s going to go change.

She’s pretty certain he’s not a bad guy. He’s just not a good guy and gives zero shits about what she actually wants. And if he doesn’t care, well, that’s irrelevant. He gets the job done.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

The water she splashes her face with is cold, but she looks a lot more put together after that. By the time she’s outside his office, her hair is thrown into a bun and she knocks quietly. She’s not nervous. The formality of these kinds of meetings have dissipated over the years. Yet, the moment she opens the door, she realizes she’s on edge.

“You wanted to see me?” Yongsun’s smile is tight, but it’s there; she would at least try and start these conversations in a light manner.

He smiles back at her. “Yeah, have a seat.” He gestures towards the chair across from him.

That smile quickly disappears when he tells her about fashion week and company socials. It’s from all the new fame she’s garnered following the last album. He’s obviously pleased, leaning back on his chair with his legs crossed and with what Yongsun can only characterize as a smirk.

_It’s great_. That’s what he says.

Yongsun sits there with pursed lips and silence as he tells her about brand marketing and who she should be associated with now, like this was what she was _meant_ to do all along.

“I don’t want to do it.” She says quietly instead, with that tight smile again.

She really overestimates how much she’s worth.

“Sorry?” He says with a frown.

“The new schedule. It’ll… cut the upcoming tour short a week.” And she didn’t become a singer to do everything but sing.

He pauses for enough time that Yongsun starts to feel uncomfortable.

“I know you’re under the impression that you’ve _made it_ now,” he says it with such disdain that Yongsun has to bite the inside of her cheek. “But, you’re naïve to think you know how the industry works.”

There’s nothing but indifference on her face. 

“Don’t forget that your _current _album’s gotten you where you’re at. Choices that you disagreed with. But look at you now.” He gestures scornfully at her. “I let you pursue your side projects with your time, but this isn’t the same, don’t waste the potential.”

Yongsun tries not to scoff at the irony in that sentence, yet she’s unable to suppress the surrender that’s evident in her tone. She hates how all this makes her feel small. “How many shows are you cutting?”

“It’s just the last week and a half. They’re mostly small cities, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Does the team know?”

He hums in agreement, and she sucks in a slow breath through her teeth. Why ask? Perhaps they should just send an email to her informing her of the changes once they’re decided.

He spends the next couple minutes showing her the commercial film outlines for advertisements.

She thinks it’s over. Until she’s pushing her way off her chair and he mutters, “Yongsun-ah…don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

She stops mid-way from getting up and looks at him; surely now her expression is no longer indifferent. For a quick second, she thinks she’s going to snap, and yell something she’s been waiting to yell. But it passes, and she leaves the room stiffly.

She stands outside in the hallway, away from the line of sight of his door, and rests the back of her head against the wall with a thud.

She doesn’t remember it being so suffocating in the past, but then everything was new back then, and she would’ve killed to get to where she is right now. It’s not quite the same anymore.

Someone turns around the corner and Yongsun quickly pulls herself off the wall, unconsciously taking her phone out from her back pocket, just to have a motion to run through. She nods a quick greeting in passing.

Ah shit.

She starts to take quick strides because she feels a sting in her eyes. She’s pretty sure real tears are in the process of forming. And then she’s leaning against the door on the inside of one of their practice rooms, staring at an upright piano crammed by a small desk.

Damn it.

She’s staring at her phone, which apparently now has a thumb hovering Byul’s number.

Fuck, what a mess. This was not the sequence of events she was anticipating. What exactly does she hope to gain from calling?

But soon it’s actually dialing, and she can hear her pulse bounding over the whirring of the call.

It takes a couple seconds.

Eventually the tone drops and an automated message cuts her off, _please leave your mes–._

Yongsun lets out a small laugh then.

Of course.

Those tears she had been waiting for fall then. 

* * *

Byul elbows the light on with her hands full, as she stumbles into her apartment. It was hours past dinner, but there were too many loose ends to tie up at the office.

She eats with the hum of television in front of her, but she’s really just staring at her phone.

Maybe it’ll ring again.

She should’ve talked to her. She _knows_. But she didn’t. Coward.

Because that would mean she’d have to know what to say, and she doesn’t. It’s why she initially put off this conversation in the car. Yet, somehow all this extra time and she’s still stuck with the same thoughts.

They’re working together. She’s producing her song for her. The fame complicates things. Yongsun’s not out publicly. Well, not that she knows of. It’s not like the industry is big. Nothing travels quicker on the grapevine.

She’s also pretty sure she wants her, which… adds to the problem. She can almost hear Hyejin voice fake warning her, _don’t do something stupid._

She picks up her phone three times and drops it back onto the couch each time.

She gets up and paces around the confines of her living room once.

“This is fucking ridiculous.” She mutters to herself and grabs her phone with a force uncalled for.

She waits for it to dial and switches hands on the phone, wiping her palm against the grey slacks she still had on from work, not having even bothered to have changed.

There's a moment she thinks she’s got the wrong number initially. The ‘_hey_’ is deeper than usual, prompting her to pull the phone away from her ear to check; it’s definitely her alright.

“Yongsun?”

“It’s nice of you to call.”

There’s a degree of fluster, which quickly gets suppressed by a little irritation. And then she picks it up. The slight slurring tips her off. “You’re drunk?”

“No.” It’s a little defensive. Yongsun pauses. “I’m mildly inebriated.”

“No sober person says that.” She’s not even sure how she came up with that word. “Where are you?”

“What’s the point of this call?”

She sure knows how to stump a girl. Byul hesitates. “To…talk.”

“Oh, so _now _it’s time to talk.” Perhaps she deserved that.

“Yeah, but not like this. And not on the phone.”

“Obviously. Or maybe you’d actually pick up.”

She thinks it’s a little easier, talking to her like this; there’s no talking in circles around the topic. But Yongsun also apparently has a much shorter fuse when _mildly inebriated_.

“Where are you?” Byul sighs again.

There’s a pause. “At home.”

“You’re drinking…at home?” That piece of information does nothing to reassure her. “Alone?” She warrants a guess.

“Well… yeah. Where the fuck am I supposed to go? I’m not trying to make the tabloids.” She murmurs exasperatedly.

“Right.” That’s perhaps the most logical part of this whole conversation.

“That’s a slippery slope,” Byul says after another beat.

“Yeah, thanks. I didn’t know that.”

Yongsun doesn’t say anything after that, and enough time passes that Byul thinks she may have just hung up, but she hears her hiccup silently. Byul chews on her thumb and continues to pace around her living room uneasily.

This wasn’t how she planned the call to go.

Like, not in the slightest.

“Would you just give me your address?” She huffs.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Byul gets a coherent location out of her. But even then, she thinks she might just ring and have some stranger pop up at the door.

When Yongsun opens the door, Byul remembers why all this was so hard in the first place.

Yongsun’s face is flushed, her loose white top dips too low, and her hair is frazzled in a way that makes her want to reach out and tuck behind her ear. Yongsun leans her weight against the door frame, masking her unsteadiness with a kind of satisfied grin plastered on her face.

The grin disappears quickly, and you could see Yongsun try and pull herself together once the context of the situation settles in.

“Sorry, you didn’t have to come.” Yongsun squeezes her eyes shut for a second and clears her throat. “I’m not– this isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.”

“Are you okay?” Byul starts.

At that question, something flickers in Yongsun’s eyes, that Byul eventually settles as surprise. Yongsun starts chewing on her lower lip like she always does, gaze scrutinizing her, like she’s trying to figure her out.

“Yeah,” Yongsun says quietly, giving her a weak smile.

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“So, this is normal for you?”

“No.” Yongsun sighs.

“And here I thought I was the one trying to avoid talking about things.”

“You are.” Yongsun scoffs lightly, dropping her head sideways against the door with a soft thud. “I had a rough day.”

She moves to take a step back, nonverbally inviting her in, and goes on to flip on a lamp by an L-shaped sofa, gesturing vaguely towards it as she walks in.

Byul realizes she must’ve been sitting in the dark before. It sits uneasy with her.

The view is phenomenal; a panorama of the skyline spans the walls via floor to ceiling windows, leaving a backdrop of twinkling lights behind the sofa. Being famous does have its perks. She glances around the apartment, and it’s oddly comfortable to see how it’s lived in. Several jackets hang over a bar stool; a guitar is propped up against the wall; there are papers scattered over the coffee table.

Yongsun grabs two bottles of water and clumsily settles into a cross legged position on one end, handing one off to Byul.

“So…” Byul trails uncertainly.

And suddenly the air is even heavier than it was. Byul steals a glance at her and the expectant, but patient, look on her face somehow makes it harder to say anything. She twists the cap off the bottle and takes a couple swigs, wishing it was something else instead.

“So?” Yongsun repeats.

Byul fidgets on the other end of the couch, playing unconsciously with the tips of her hair.

A little chuckle escapes Yongsun. “You are… really bad at this.”

“What?” It comes out a small squeak. She doesn’t know why this is so hard.

When Byul looks up, Yongsun doesn’t seem irritated in the way she expected, and instead just smiles softly at her, like all this is intriguing to her in some way. A wave of embarrassment flushes over her.

“_You_ called,” Yongsun says with no actual indication of accusation.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t–”

Yongsun sighs, lifting herself up to half crawl towards her, and Byul’s breath catches deep in her throat, eyes everting quickly from the neckline of her shirt.

She breathes again when Yongsun settles again at arms distance from her, hands resting casually on her crossed legs, and eyes curiously set on her still. Byul’s considers the influence of alcohol, but knowing her, Yongsun _would_ throw her off like this without.

“Why did you come over?” Yongsun murmurs. She tilts her head to the side, peering at her, and Byul couldn’t help but think that she looks adorable in that dim lighting: a little drunk, frazzled and perplexed.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You know I am.” Yongsun stares at her, like she’s waiting for her to say more.

Seeing the state Yongsun was in when she opened the door was enough to question how _okay_ Yongsun was, but she lets that go.

Instead she tries to rationalize her thoughts out loud. “I came over–” She lets a quick breath out and breaks eye contact. “I’m not good at this– talking, and– ”

“You said you wanted to. When I– ” Yongsun interrupts, and Byul looks up quickly. She already knows what she’s talking about, but Yongsun keeps going. “You said it in the car. Did you mean it?”

Byul inhales sharply.

It’s hard to judge how time is passing when your heart picks up so fast.

All Byul could see were the wide blinking eyes before, but the memory of the kiss has her dropping her stare down to her lips. Her own lips part unconsciously to let out a slow breath.

Yes. She meant it. Of course, she wanted to kiss her.

She doesn’t know how many seconds pass there. Maybe a minute. She couldn’t tell.

She looks back up and she knows she must’ve been obvious, completely fucking transparent, because Yongsun looks like she might just do it again.

But she doesn’t. Byul can see hesitation on her flushed face.

“I meant it,” Byul says deliberately, looking straight at her. Then she takes another breath. “I mean it.”

She doesn’t know when they got so close, but she can feel Yongsun’s knee resting against her own legs, curled up and tucked to the side of the sofa. Their fingers somehow migrated to be a hair’s breadth from touching.

Everything just feels like _more. _She can smell the hint of alcohol on her from this distance, muffled by whatever light fragrance she has on.

“What are we doing?” Byul’s whisper seems to echo across the room.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Everything always is.”

Byul picks up a hint of anguish behind those words and Yongsun’s gaze drops for a moment.

“I like you,” Byul says impulsively.

Yongsun laughs at the sudden admission. Byul’s sure she’s blushing now.

It’s a genuine kind of laugh that Byul only sees slip through once every so often– the kind that’s followed by this dopey grin afterwards.

“That’s good to know,” Yongsun smiles.

“Are you out?” Byul pauses. “Publicly.”

Yongsun’s eyebrows furrow momentarily, confused by the disjointed conversation Byul is providing. “No…”

“Wait, have you even–”

Yongsun rolls her eyes and lifts her hand off her lap momentarily, grazing their fingers in the process, _just wait_.

“I’m out to a couple close friends. My company knows. Sort of. But no, it’s not public.”

“Okay. And _this_–” Byul gestures between them, “–is okay then?”

“Byul, stop thinking like a CEO for a second. I’m not asking you to go public with me.” Yongsun laughs. “I asked what you wanted to do–” Her eyes sweep down to her lips again, “–like, now.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Maybe she’s been overthinking everything.

She’s scared they’ll ruin whatever they have going on between them right now. But it’s hard to be scared when she’s looking at her like that, and she doesn’t know when her fingers started playing with Yongsun’s. Her movements are betraying her. 

“You’re drunk…” Byul says quietly. 

Yongsun sighs. “Not drunk enough to _not_ know what I’m doing. Give me some credit here.”

Byul eyes flicker in hesitation but she’s leaning forward already. She always thought she’d have more restraint than this. There’s actually anything _but_ restraint when she slips a hand around the nape of Yongsun’s neck.

Byul groans, a mixture between frustration and a reaction to Yongsun’s hand gliding up her thigh. “Just come here,” she whispers.

And Yongsun responds, eyes drooping lower, a puff of air hitting Byul’s lips in anticipation.

It’s not like last time.

Her lips are still soft. She tastes the same except for the slight hint of alcohol. But it doesn’t _feel_ the same.

Whatever hunger sits brewing in Yongsun now didn’t exist back in the car, pulling something visceral and similar in Byul. A desperation that’s evident by how Yongsun is tugging at her bottom lip and licking into her, all accompanied by sporadic little whines that’s starting to drive Byul crazy. Byul opens readily to her, hands tangling in her blonde hair as she lets her pull at her loose cotton suit jacket, rolled up at the sleeves.

Her hands run down the lapels of Byul’s jacket, and tug suddenly, causing Byul to lose momentum and take a breath. It’s disorienting, to want so much so quickly. 

“You and your fucking suits.” Yongsun breathes against her lips, then quickly makes contact again, losing themselves in each other for another while.

“What?” Byul hushes back teasingly with a quirk of an eyebrow. “You don’t like them?”

Yongsun’s voice is hoarse when she pulls back, “shut up. You _know_ what you look like.”

Byul lets out a cackle, “Oh, I do.” The sound dies quickly at the back of her throat when Yongsun pushes her back to straddle her.


	6. Keep Walking Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe during these difficult times, and taking this seriously. Mad respect to anyone working the front lines. Thank you. Given the current circumstances I’ve come into a little more time recently…and apparently that leads to NSFW content… So hopefully this brings a little fun. Comments and criticism welcomed :)

Yongsun wonders for a quick second how she ended up in this position.

She gets… bold, when she’s had a little liquid courage. She finds herself trying to just _exist_, maybe blur the background a little, and ignore that gnawing pressure on her chest that’s always there.

But not quite like this.

If she really thought about it all, she’s sure it’ll seem irresponsible– ridiculous even. But she’s didn’t. She just let her body lead. All those feelings of being small, of feeling suffocated, she wanted to extinguish with this need for _her_.

It’s overwhelmingly euphoric.

Byul’s observant.

The more she gets to know her the more she realizes it. In small minuscule ways that frighten her sometimes, because she seems to _know_ things. Looks at her like she could see right through her sometimes. And it’s not just in the way she’s meeting every push and pull of her lips right now, but the way she understands where she’s coming from; her work, her music.

Her thoughts are quickly impeded by a sudden change in weight and the loss of contact on her lips. A puff of air leaves Yongsun in surprise as Byul tries to lift her off her lap in an attempt to flip her over. 

“No… not yet,” Yongsun breathes, driving her hips back down possessively to pin her underneath again. She doesn’t think it possible to have enough of this. And if she’s going to be impulsive this one time, she might as well go through with it.

She leans forward quickly, her lips attaching to Byul’s neck, leaving a trail from collarbone to ear. It’s beyond satisfying to watch her groan before abandoning her prior mission, tilting instead to give her more access.

At one point Yongsun eases up, leaning back just to look at her.

The way she looks up at her tempts her.

Yongsun finds her hand at the center of Byul’s chest, edging her back until she has her lying flat across the sofa, one leg draping over the side and her head propped against the armrest.

Her hand doesn’t let up on the pressure. And she inches it up far enough to see her shiver– just past her collarbones with fingertips grazing her neck.

Byul tries to lift herself up to meet her lips again.

And Yongsun couldn’t help herself.

She pushes her back down.

Hard.

A guttural sound wrings out of Byul, even surprising herself, if the way her eyes widen is any indication. Those eyes are completely glazed over when she lifts herself slowly onto her elbows and exhales, “do it again.”

She shivers at the way Byul is playing along. So Yongsun does– pushes her down and slips her hand around her throat for just a second. And then a soft purr escapes both of them when she lowers her weight into her, the pressure a nice quell to the tension. Yongsun lets her hips do what it wants to after that, lets herself feel the pressure of Byul’s leg riding up between her.

When she eventually does surrender, it’s satisfying, to feel the force of her kisses in a reversal of positions.

Byul quickly sits up to straddle her abdomen, visibly catching a breath. Her eyes are hooded and blinking in slow motion. Yongsun’s surprised by the change until she realizes Byul is _actually_ struggling to compose herself.

The lack of control… it’s… really hot.

The way she’s struggles to keep her eyes open, gaze unfocused, swallowing audibly. The way her fingers tremble slightly as they continue to graze their way up under her top.

“Can I?” Yongsun whispers, referring to her hands, that are dancing along the top of her slacks, tugging gently at her shirt.

Byul nods, gathering her hair in one hand away from her neck to release some of the heat. 

Yongsun doesn’t wait though.

She quickly fists both hands full of the shirt underneath and pulls. Byul tips forward with the motion, letting loose a deep strangled groan in the process, and her hand quickly lets go of the hair, landing back on Yongsun’s chest to balance herself.

“_Yong_,” she huffs in frustration.

At this point, every sound is turning her on.

The rustle as the rest of her shirt gets pulled up. The pop of each button going free. The clink of her belt when she pulls her slacks loose. But calling her _that._ God, it– it makes her–

Yongsun has to splay her hands on Byul’s hips to keep them steady, and relishes in the way her muscles tighten against her fingers.

Byul sits back through all this, giving her the space to undress her, eyes dangerously wide.

Yongsun holds her breath at the sight. It’s probably also the angle; Byul looks down at her with her outfit in disarray, shirt wide open and chest heaving. Her hands couldn’t help but start moving. It becomes obvious where she’s going, her fingers play at the zipper of her slacks, skimming lower and lower. Until Byul suddenly stills her hand with a touch.

Yongsun looks up, a mix of concern and confusion.

“I– uh,” Byul breaks eye-contact and looks sideways with a glow of embarrassment when she murmurs, “I’m… really wet.”

What–

Just… _fuck_.

Yongsun tries to mask her fluster with a quick laugh. “That’s the point, Byul.”

“Okay…”

Is she– is she really blushing?

Byul’s hand drops then, relinquishing part of her doubt, and instead stares expectantly at her, mouth agape in anticipation. Yongsun can practically feel her gaze as she begins to move her hand again.

Her fingers almost slip inside prematurely with the lack of friction.

“Oh_._” Yongsun’s eyes slip close for a moment. “_Fuck._”

“I told you,” Byul whispers.

Maybe it’s the way Yongsun had responded but there’s no hesitation in her now as she starts to grind against her, willing her to go inside.

It doesn’t take long to build a rhythm. Byul has hands splayed to both sides of Yongsun’s head and she leans down to capture her mouth, never ceasing their movements. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, the tips trickling onto Yongsun’s, grazing back and forth with their thrusts. It’s almost timed with the sounds she’s making.

Those fucking sounds.

It’s going to make her insane.

She starts hearing Byul pant profanities, barely audible by her ears. Then one of her hands started roaming, touching and kneading her, until–

Yongsun rolls her eyes back at the sensation around her nipple, her fingers stalling inside her for a moment. She makes a sound, halfway between a moan and whimper, that has Byul locking eyes with her with an expression of complete awe.

But soon she’s frowning a little, eyes squeezing shut. “I– I need more, I want–” She groans with frustration, unable to formulate legitimate words. 

Yongsun knows, could feel it in the way her walls tighten around her fingers. She brings the palm of her hand up, flat against her clit, and licks deep into her mouth at the same time. And Byul moans loudly into her, the light shuddering of her body, rippling through Yongsun as well.

“Oh my god.” Yongsun’s thoughts were scrambling. “Fuck. Byul-ah–” She drowning in the obscene noises coming out of her.

It doesn’t take long after that. Yongsun indulges in the way she has shortened her name, and was chanting it against her lips.

“Yong– I…Yong. I– I’m going to–” And then she does. Her short staccato whimpers get swallowed by Yongsun’s mouth, abdomen flexing similarly in a succession of quivers. Their lips break contact with a heavy gasp, and then she relaxes her weight onto her, discreet sounds slipping out once in a while.

Yongsun doesn’t think she’s ever been more turned on. 

Byul lifts her head up once she’s caught some semblance of her breath back.

“You– ” Byul swallows hard, and wets her lips. “–you are really… good at that.”

The corner of Yongsun’s lips quirk up.

She gets this urge to throw her balance, because she’s staring at her now, content…and _always_ with the same soft smile that makes her feel a little unsteady.

She brings the fingers that were inside of her to her mouth, using her index to pull at her bottom lip. Her eyes almost flutter close at the intensity of Byul’s fixation on her fingers. She doesn’t stop, inching them deep into her mouth to suck.

There’s a little growl that rumbles at the back of Byul’s throat in response.

It’s exactly what she wanted to elicit, because Yongsun’s practically vibrating with energy now and she needs her to do _something_.

Byul shrugs off her suit and shirt in one quick movement, and Yongsun barely has a chance to appreciate the view before she’s right up against her again, pulling her top off too. She kisses her now, bruising and desperate, just long enough for Yongsun to lose herself again, wondering if she’s ever gotten so high off of anything in her life.

She feels Byul’s arms loop around her, as if she was going to carry her. But she stops midway with her arms tucked under Yongsun, and murmurs by her ear. “Can we please use your bed. This fabric looks expensive.”

It takes her a second to understand. Yongsun bursts into a loud chuckle into her neck. “Really? Now you care about the furniture?”

“Didn’t _quite_ get a chance to think about that before.”

“No. I guess you didn’t.” She laughs sheepishly, planting a brief kiss on her shoulder before extracting herself from her arms. Standing by the sofa and emanating an energy of impatience, she grabs Byul’s wrist to tug eagerly. “Well, come on then.”

Byul pushes her onto the bed before she even fully reaches it, her hands already at the seam of her pants by the time Yongsun had twisted around to find her bearings. “Hey–” she laughs at the whirlwind of motions.

“No.” Byul silences her with a quick kiss. “It’s my turn.”

She stays silent as Byul sheds the rest of their clothes. Her mouth dries as Byul pushes her up the bed and settles between her legs, not quite able to ignore the pounding of her heartbeat.

But what’s even more unsettling is the way Byul looks at her, like she’s something unreal, and the hunger now– it’s seeping from that stare, the intensity making her squirm.

Any coherency in her thoughts disappear when she, without warning, licks deep into her.

Yongsun convulses at the contact, “my god–”

She’s fucking relentless.

Yongsun can feel _everything_, including the tingling down to her toes. It takes both of Byul’s hands to snake around her thighs to hold her hips down– embarrassing how little time it took to work her up.

She soon feels herself tightening– that familiar build– almost choking on the air she needs to inhale but somehow couldn’t. And then she tries not to think about how loud she is when she finally comes.

She feels her climb her way up her body and finds just enough strength to pull her closer as she closes her eyes, the exhaustion hitting her like a truck.

Byul kisses her again, making Yongsun’s eyes flash open with how wet the kiss is this time, all the way down to her chin. It’s dirtier now, shameless.

At the sight of Yongsun’s eyes closing slowly again, Byul says, “oh no you don’t, not yet, I’m not even close to being done.”

Yongsun groans, but somehow her hands already found it ways up her torso, gripping her hips in anticipation.

* * *

It’s still dark outside when Yongsun wakes.

_Wait, did that– where is – _

Yongsun feels a body behind her and an arm resting on her hips. She slides out of the embrace to turn and see, blinking quickly to get the grit out of her eyes.

“_Hey_. Hey, you’re okay.” Byul wraps a hand around her arm in the midst of her confusion.

The lucidity now is jarring. It’s unsettling how she could still want more with a simple touch like that.

It also becomes apparent how little she is wearing and the clarity starts to come back.

“Oh shit, sorry. I fell asleep?” She says, a little mortified.

She runs a hand through her hair; her fingers tangle in the absolute mess.

“You said something about ‘that damn choreography’?” Byul chuckles.

“That’s… embarrassing.”

“It’s okay, it hasn’t been long.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah… seems like it.” It sounds like she has more to say than that.

Yongsun props her pillow higher and leans onto her side, letting her face Byul, who’s somewhat mirroring her position. She doesn’t know what territory they’re in now, doesn’t know where it’s safe to tread.

She didn’t leave though. Yongsun was half expecting her to be gone the moment she woke.

Her fingers somehow find Byul's, and the contact is reassuring.

They lie in silence and Byul’s fingers begin trailing up and down her arm, and she feels a weak shiver spread within, her skin prickling where the sensation travels.

“Did something happened today?” Byul says, and glances at the clock by her night stand to avoid eye contact, “You’re not… usually like this. Well, I mean none of this is _usual_–” She laughs nervously, “–but you know what I mean.”

That’s an understatement. Yongsun winces internally, the memories of her actions a vivid picture. “Yeah. I– Sorry…I know I came onto you a little strong.”

Byul closes her eyes with a smile and laughs once. “No– I’m not talking about that, I know why _that_ happened.”

“I meant before this. With the drinking.” She stares at her expectantly, _you know_.

Right. That. Yongsun sighs, debating what she should say, not knowing even where to begin. She hadn’t the slightest clue what she was doing these days, tonight included.

“I– Nothing _happened_. It was just work.” Yongsun grabs her softly by the wrist. She couldn’t think with those added sensations. “You _know_ what I do. It’s not always… easy.” She shrugs at her word choice. “I think I realized that I… I don’t matter.”

She watches Byul’s eyes narrow a little, brows furrowing in confusion, waiting for her to clarify.

“I’m… a face. A symbol. An icon.” She rolls her eyes. “And maybe I look good.” Her gaze falls downwards after, scoffing audibly at the thought. “Took me five years to see that _I_ don’t matter. It’s all marketing. That’s how it’s run. Branding, ads, anything else that makes you _seen_.”

“You’re not–”

“Don’t.”

She couldn’t hear a superficial compliment right now.

Byul opens her mouth and closes it.

“What if– what if I don’t _mean _anything?” Emotional after the night– she hates how her voice shakes.

“That’s not what I saw in you,” Byul says without looking at her.

The corners of Yongsun’s lips tug up into a skeptical smile.

“You barely know me.” Yongsun tries to deflect. Oh, the irony in those words.

There’s silence.

“I could.”

Yongsun looks up abruptly and catches her eye. She sees something curious in them.

She wishes she wasn’t always so thrown with her. The fussed hair and the swollen lips are a dangerous combination added to simple words like that.

_You might regret it_. Yongsun thinks. Things tend to break under the spotlight, a scrutiny you don’t understand until you’re standing under it. And things around her just seem to keep getting sucked into it.

“The first time we met I wanted to do this.” Byul starts quietly, smiling softly as she stares down at the mattress again, fingers tracing the pattern on the fabric.

“Do what?”

“_You_.” Byul laughs.

Yongsun couldn’t hold back her own chuckle. She wasn’t quite expecting this frankness.

“But then I saw you sing.”

Byul moves to tuck stray hairs behind her ear, her hand smoothing it over after. Yongsun freezes. It’s gentle enough it almost hurts.

“You– You’re not just a fucking icon. Or symbol, or whatever. You don’t _just_ sing. You live it; you breathe it.” Byul’s eyes sparkle with something. “I decided at your concert I needed to work with you. Make a little art.” The last words come out dancing, like a joke, but it feels anything but.

“So I did. _We_ did.” She waves her hand between them. “I wasn’t wrong. The song is something else. But for me…it meant _this_–” Byul jabs a finger softly at the center of Yongsun’s chest. “–was off limits.”

Byul’s finger relaxes and she now rests the hand on her chest, looking up from that action to stare at her. Yongsun tries to focus on the rise and fall her breaths rather than her palpitations, revealing far too much.

“But you.” Byul states definitively and lets out a fast breath. “I couldn’t…not do this.”

When Yongsun imagined them talking, she didn’t quite imagine this. She wasn’t supposed to make her feel like this. Unravelled and… desperate– for something she couldn’t quite characterize. It scares her.

“Byul, I… you can’t just–” All of it gets covered up in a rush of frustration, because that’s just a much more manageable emotion. She doesn’t get to say all this, touch her like this, and– 

This isn’t her.

But then somehow her body’s gone and done everything opposite.

She kisses her– just surges forward forgetting the sheets that were keeping her modest, and takes her face with both her hands. It’s enough to consume the both of them. She wants to say something, but she can’t seem to figure _how._

Words would’ve never captured it quite the same.

They stay breathing, foreheads against each other.

“You asked if I was out before, you know this has to be a secret right?” Yongsun says hoarsely. It was something unspoken between them, something they both knew to be true. It’s still hard to say though, like she’s ignoring the sincerity of Byul’s words.

“What exactly are we keeping secret?”

“_This?_” She makes a show of her lack of clothing, and then points to Byul similarly.

She knows what Byul’s asking, it’s easier to state the obvious though.

She sighs.

“Byul I– I don’t exactly live a normal life. I just… I don’t know if I can promise anything.”

She knows she’s giving her mixed messages, knows that Byul doesn’t deserve the shit she manages to pull everyone through.

For a second Yongsun thinks she sees a flash of pain in her eyes, but then it’s gone and she doesn’t know if she’s imagined it.

She can see Byul trying to find the right words to say.

“Hey.” Byul squeezes her hand once. “I don’t need you to promise anything.” Yongsun holds her breath, and she continues, “I know what it’s like, okay? I would never say anything you wouldn’t want said.”

She couldn’t help but pull her close again.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Yongsun whispers against her lips.

“So we don’t. Nobody really does.”


	7. Much too close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw. CEO is read as daepyonim in my head for some reason. It’s why I wrote it like that. Don’t ask me why, it makes sense to me... As always, comments/ feedback welcomed :)

Byul ends up leaving just before the sun rises. But she doesn’t sleep. Her eyes sting the next day, which even the addition of caffeine would not help with. If calling her that night was unexpected, then she doesn’t know what to call the rest of the evening. Disbelief coats her memories, but there’s a flicker of exhilaration in there, reminding her that she _wanted _this.

There was a distinct moment when she knew she was too far gone. Where, for once, she realized that consequences didn’t matter to her.

The way her stomach fluttered when Yongsun kissed her as she was leaving– just grabbed her by her already creased-up shirt to pull her back in.

It’s pathetic how she responds to her.

There’s this ache– the kind where you question if you actually want to feel more of it– because none of this is simple, and part of it is so out of her element she doesn’t know how to interpret it. She can’t help but laugh at how she threw all her morals out the window the first chance she got.

She’s not crossing a line here.

It’s what she tells herself when she rolls into work.

It’s what she thinks about during hours of meetings with her artists and staff.

It’s downright _easy _to believe when Yongsun texts her for the next while, teasing and playful, not bothering to hide the fact she intends for this to happen again. 

So she lets herself indulge a little, willingly embraces the way her heart picks up when she knows it’s something from her. Perhaps she can just wallow in this want a little longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It turns out, it’s more than possible to intertwine their lives together; actions tainted by personal agendas are plentiful and easy to justify.

Especially if it ends up with her sitting on set about a week later, watching Yongsun and Wheein film their MV–which she has every right to do.

Arranging the filming hasn’t exactly been smooth-sailing, but… Byul can be persuasive. Diplomatic. Something she had to learn the hard way. Contrary to how much she complains about the system, she is surprising good at maneuvering it, using publicity strategically, and maintaining a degree of class and authenticity. _That _is what she’s good at.

They’re set up on the rooftop of some old building Sandeul managed to locate, and it’s dark; the city lights glimmer in the background. It’s the second location they’ve decided to film at and it’s beautiful. Yongsun had suggested it to her in passing one day, and it just…made sense.

Byul is sitting at the back, legs crossed over another, on a small fold-out chair, blending in with the rest of the crew and equipment.

The cameras are all focused on Yongsun.

She lies flat on her back against a long wooden bench, with one knee propped up and her head tilted on its side towards the camera. She pulls herself up, back arching gracefully into an upright posture, before turning to face the camera abruptly, completely in time with the music, legs snapping open with both her hands moving to cover herself.

The action is anything but modest.

Her eyes stare straight into the camera– expression fucking _regal_.

What an enigma Yongsun is.

Byul watches her slip in and out of the camera frame, carelessly pulling on persona after persona. It’s no wonder how she pulls off that mysterious aura for her fans, all the while seemingly friendly and polite; that’s her lure. Because you have this _need_ to know her– figure out what makes her tick.

If it weren’t for other…personal experiences, she would’ve never seen that of all things… she’s _soft_.

_That’s_ never shown on camera, the fragility of it all. Byul’s eyes slip shut at the sudden image of her falling apart against her mouth. It’s almost like she’s caught in the act when her focus is yanked elsewhere.

“CEO?”

Wheein materializes next to her– full make-up and outfit– and plants herself into an adjacent chair.

“Hey.” She swallows and greets her. “I thought I told you to call me Byulyi-unnie.”

That prompts a shy smile. “Oh, right.”

Byul watches her leg shake nervously against the chair and chuckles quietly. “How are you doing?”

Wheein looks up at that, and follows her line of sight.

“Force of habit,” she smiles and stills her leg. “I’m…good. This is insane though.” They’re both studying Yongsun filming the last of her shots. “I still don’t know how you managed to get her to work with me.”

“I just asked.” Byul shrugs.

“_Sure_.”

“I pulled the second verse for you _because_ I knew you can do it.”

“Yeah, but, still. She’s… you know, _Solar_.”

Yes. Yes, she knows.

“Wheein– Don’t doubt yourself.”

“I’m… not.”

They call for her at that point, the camera set up for a dolly shot of the both of them.

Byul winks at her. “You got this.”

Wheein grimaces with embarrassment. “Please don’t do that, CEO.”

“It’s Moon. Byul. Yi.” She articulates excessively, and Wheein shakes her head fondly as she walks towards the cameras.

_ _ _ _ _

The camera rotates around the two of them, both perched on high stools, lips in sync with the song, until they kick their stools over, moving into a short mirrored dance sequence.

They cut. And then it repeats. This goes on for a while, the both of them visibly out of breath by the end.

It’s not long before they’re transitioning into Wheein’s solo shots, and Yongsun is dismissed. Someone runs up to her to hand her a bottle of water, and she sips at it eagerly, looking up.

Byul waits for her to make eye contact, knowing she saw her watching long ago.

It’s the first time they’ve actually seen each other since– it’s just a little paralyzing to be hit with a stare like that. A smouldering that’s only meant for cameras.

Byul gets up and walks to the edge of rooftop, leaning against the concrete wall. It’s maybe three extra steps back, but it’s as far away from it all as she could get. She gets the excuse of watching her make her way over.

Yongsun’s hips sway as she walks, nonchalant, indicating nothing. But as she steps in front of her, her fingertips graze, fleeting and delicate, trailing over her wrist and up her arm quickly, disappearing the moment she feels it. Byul regrets shedding her jacket earlier, shivering for a whole other reason at the way her fingers connect.

It’s much, much too close.

She can smell her at this distance. Yet, it’s all somewhat justified in the confines of the cramped area. Then she’s just standing next to her, nothing out of the ordinary, crowded into a corner together behind the crew.

“What are you doing here?” Yongsun’s voice is low and quiet beside her.

“Just… observing.”

“Hmm.”

There’s a lilt to that sound, an amusement conveyed by the slight lift of an eyebrow.

“I thought you said you shouldn’t come.”

“Yeah…well, I have poor self-control.”

Yongsun licks her lips at that.

Byul has to force herself to look forward, feigning interest at someone touching up Wheein’s foundation. A quiet breath leaves her mouth, and she scans the crew briefly, confirming everyone’s focus to be preoccupied still.

Yongsun’s eyes follow where Byul was looking, and instead sincerely says, “I’m glad you get to see it through.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Where’d you scout her from?" She keeps her eyes focused on Wheein. "She’s different, good different. She could probably stack harmonies in her sleep.”

“I didn’t scout her. It was mostly luck. _She_ dropped off her own tape.” Byul looks sideways to meet her eyes momentarily. “But I do have an eye for talent.”

Yongsun suppresses a smile. “Of course.”

“There’s _something_ about her though. I think she’ll make it.”

“You say that about everyone you work with?”

Byul chuckles at that tone. “No. I don’t actually.” She pauses. “Your name’s going to do wonders for her though.”

“Oh, I see, so _that’s_ why I was included in all this.” Yongsun teases now, no doubt in either of them that their intentions stemmed from something more now. 

“Not at all. It’s the pretty face.”

A muffled laugh out bursts out of her. “Glad I have that going for me.”

“Well, I did make a lot of smart decisions for this.”

“You’re a lot cockier than I thought–” the way she smirks insinuates a fondness more than anything, “– but…I’ll give it to you. You really outdid yourself with this video.”

“You’re the one that chose this location.”

“Yeah, but I mean the story of it all.”

“I knew it’d suit you.”

Yongsun laughs. “The sadness?”

“No…the concept of always fighting it.”

A look she hasn’t seen before flashes, and it makes Byul hold back an impulse to fix her hair. There’s comfort in that second of silence, something their conversations over messages couldn’t convey.

“Thank you.”

It’s so quiet Byul only pieces it together with the movement of her lips. She turns fully towards her now, surprised, question in her eyes.

“You let me make this into something I wanted.” Yongsun shrugs carelessly, attempting to lift the seriousness of the tone, and her gaze flickers to the ground.

She makes an attempt to lean against the wall, but all that does is pull her shoulder right next to Byul’s, the warmth of her seeping over a little. Her hand hangs by her thigh, gliding over Byul’s leg as she readjusts herself. Byul glances at her hand, then locks eyes with her.

_What _is she trying to do_. _

And Yongsun just smirks at her, with an aloofness she has no right to.

Byul blinks rapidly and clears her throat.

“Yongsun,” she warns lowly.

But that just does the complete opposite– actually makes the glint in her eyes worse.

She realizes she’s incapable of doing anything, completely useless, against a look like this, but then Yongsun saves her with an exaggerated exhale.

“I know,” she mutters under her breath. She takes a small step back, fingers running through the parting of her hair. It’s another habit of hers, to mask uneasiness. Her hair always seems to fall into the right places.

It’s at that moment that Byul catches her manager trying to make his way over, maneuvering around the equipment. It has her heart pounding at their recent behaviour, and she looks accusingly over to her.

At least she has the decency to look sheepish.

He takes a couple of steps, but stops, having given up stepping over wires and around stands. He gestures a couple feet away, pointing to the phone he holds several centimeters from his ear, apparently still mid-call with someone, and mouths, _your car’s here_.

Yongsun nods quickly at him, and makes a show of pushing off the wall, like she’s about to leave.

“I have to go.”

For a second it looks like she’s about to go in to hug her, and then it looks like she’s about to grab her hand, but she doesn’t, seemingly trying to process what to do with herself in this context.

Byul laughs, and opts to squeeze her shoulder instead. “You’re working after this?”

“Yeah, but not for long. It’s a small event. Go sing a song, say whatever speech they’ve written for me. Yada yada. ”

She pouts in a way that’s uncharacteristic of her, and Byul quirk her eyebrows up in amusement. It gives her the confidence to say something uncharacteristic.

“So when do you get off work?” It’s said so neutrally, it’s hard to tell if she means anything by it.

There’s a curious, scrutinizing look. “Eleven…” Yongsun replies cautiously.

“Hmm.”

And it’s left at that, as Yongsun’s manager reappears in the doorway onto the rooftop, essentially cutting whatever conversation they have to a halt. But she doesn’t miss the way Yongsun’s eyes twinkle before she turns to leave.

* * *

Byul shows up that night at her door, far too late to be appropriate, and pretends like she’s had to think really hard about it, like it wasn’t the only thought that’s been occupying her mind since she left the set.

There’s surprise initially: a quick widening of Yongsun’s eyes, followed by a warm smile that instills a confidence in her.

She has her blonde hair braided back on one side of her head now, likely for whatever event she had to attend, making the softness in her features that much more of a contrast to the fierce look she has donned.

She’s wearing a frayed crop top and low cut combat pants. It’s not really fair that someone can look like that, and Byul wonders if she left her outfit on just to mess with her. Her eyes glance downwards– _once_– at that sculpted abdomen, and the smugness of which she follows Byul’s gaze confirms just that.

“I… don’t know why I’m here.” Byul gets out.

Yongsun bites her lip to hide whatever smirk she had on before. “Is that your attempt at subtlety?”

Byul feels her cheeks warm. “… no.”

“But you do know.” She’s being coy, the way her words trail frustratingly. It only serves to encourage Byul to say what she wants.

“Fine.” She steps right into her space, past the opening of the door, hovering in front of her. She’s rewarded with a quick look of fluster. “I do.”

Yongsun refuses to back down, breaking into a full grin now, daring her to close the space.

She wants to, it's tempting. But instead of doing that, Byul reaches around, and tugs gently on the elastic holding her braid until it comes undone. It's worth it when the unexpectedness of it breaks that look of collectedness altogether. Yongsun’s eyes slip close as Byul runs her fingers through it, loosening it into curls that hang by her face.

Byul takes a couple slow small steps, edging Yongsun back into the house and pushes the door close behind her.

It’s somehow quieter.

But she takes a step back now, and rests her back against the closed door, needing the space to ask: “Are you sure?”

_Are you sure_, because this time, it’s going to mean something; it’s not quite going to be an impulsive one-off; it’s going to be obvious the way Byul can’t help herself, time and time again.

“Are you not?” Something falters in Yongsun, the change in tone throwing her off, a hint of concern flickering across her suddenly knitted brows.

Byul is incredulous for a moment.

“I came over to your apartment. At–” She pulls out her phone and the screen lights up. “–11:43. On a fucking weekday. What do you think?”

Yongsun’s eyes darken at the way Byul angers.

And before she knows it, Byul feels her back slam into the door, and lips she hasn’t stopped thinking about connect with hers.

Byul’s hands slip from gripping her hips down to her ass, trying to anchor herself to something. They break apart with a gasp, and Yongsun pants, “come inside.”

“Ah…there’s my invite,” Byul says as she steps out of her boots.

A quick laugh. “Shut up.” And then Yongsun pulls her quickly into that same room again.

_ _ _ _ _

It’s edging close to three am by the time Byul checks her phone again.

She takes one look at a quietly breathing Yongsun against her arm, and questions what the protocol for these situations are.

She decides not to push her.

“I’ve got to go.” She murmurs into Yongsun’s neck, her lips gliding carelessly over the skin, all the way down to her sternum.

Yongsun mumbles something incoherent into the air and pulls her closer, eyes closed but lashes fluttering with the movement.

“My secretary found me napping in my chair last time. It’s ruining my image.”

“What image?” Yongsun gives a throaty laugh.

“I’m cool.”

“Cool people don’t say that Byul.”

“They do if you ask them.” She rolls her eyes once, and starts to extract herself from Yongsun’s arms, pulling her arms off in a way that results in more sounds of protest.

Yongsun’s eyes flick open at the sound of her getting dressed, eyes trailing over her as she pulls her pants on, narrowing with a seduction she knows she can pull off.

“_Stop_.” Byul laughs.

“What.”

“You’re frustrating, you know?” She walks over, both hands behind her to clasp her bra together, and pushes her back down on the bed; a sloppy kiss that lasts a couple seconds.

She tries to repeat this process, but this time a soft hand tugs on her wrist as she tries to lift herself off the bed.

“You could stay... If you want to,” Yongsun murmurs subdued.

Byul looks up, sitting back down on the bed. She had to admit she wasn’t expecting that.

“Are you sure? I can– ”

“Are you going to ask me that about everything?”

Byul chuckles. “No, I just mean– ”

“Stay. I mean it.”

Her face is still curiously questioning, but the smile that breaks gives her away. “Okay.”

Yongsun beams placidly at her. “This means this can come off again.” She reaches for the clasps on Byul’s back, resulting in a snicker from her as they fall comfortably back into the sheets.

The warmth of this whole ordeal gives Byul a sudden ounce of courage.

“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” She asks to the ceiling. 

Yongsun props her head up on her elbow, eyes fixed onto her side profile, happily conceited for a moment, “you’re asking me on a date?”

Byul turns towards her. “Again. Frustrating.”

Yongsun laughs. “Yes, damn it. I want the dinner. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Oh right, forgot you were some big shot celebrity.”

“Get some sleep, CEO. Wouldn’t want you being uncool tomorrow.”


	8. Despite the inhibitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of went back and forth with this one and then decided to just post it anyways...

Byul wakes to a loud buzzing on the floor, making her scramble to untangle herself from the sheets, cautiously lifting the hand that was resting on her shoulder.

A quick look around the room allows her to pinpoint her phone among the scatter of clothes, and she takes a glance over her shoulder to see Yongsun half curled up, still fast asleep. How she managed to sleep through all that buzzing is beyond her.

_Shit._

She should’ve set a fucking alarm. How did she forget?

She rushes in tiptoes to pull her shirt on, and swipes on her phone as she walks past the door.

“Hey– ”

She’s met with quite an earful.

“What happened? Are you okay? You didn’t, like, crash your car or something right? You can’t just not show up. And not reply to my calls. It’s _irresponsible._”

Byul just squeezes her eyes shut and waits.

“No. No, I’m fine. Sorry, Minji. I… I overslept.” It’s the truth. Her voice croaks enough to prove it.

“You overslept.”

“Yeah, shit, give me a half hour. I’ll be there.”

“You don’t oversleep. You show up an hour early.”

Byul’s face contorts. "Well, there’s a first to everything.” She tries to brush it off.

“Are you sure? Because if something–”

“Yell at me when I come in okay?”

“– if something happened…” She repeats with emphasis. “I’d still save your ass.”

“What did I miss…”

“I moved it, the meeting about broadcast regulations. I told them you had an even more important meeting. Not sure how well that took.” She makes it sound ridiculous. It is. Byul could see her unimpressed face through the phone. “You know, no one actually knows what the hell you do all day. Except me.”

“Ugh, you’re a godsend.”

“I know,” she sighs loudly, “You have a conference in thirty, I can redirect it to your cell, but please do pick up then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” That earns an exasperated laugh.

“That will be all…” Minji imitates her, in a deep tone. “CEO.” She adds.

“_Thank you_.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Byul pads her way quietly back, rubbing the base of her hands across her eyes, a hint of embarrassment at the debacle she made. She stands at the foot of the bed, mildly aware that she was bordering on creepy, studying the way Yongsun breath comes out in rhythmic short puffs.

She doesn’t have _time_ for this, but yet, here she stands, contemplating a series of questionable decisions that’s led to… this– god, she’s just so beautiful.

Her blonde hair is splayed out on the pillow, legs tangling in a similar fashion amongst the sheets– it’s worse that Byul didn’t even _care_ that she took up all the space, she liked it.

The way she sloppily draped her arm across her abdomen– when Byul climbed back in after brushing her teeth with a spare– was so _indulgent_, on both their parts. Yongsun’s breathing had evened out within seconds. At first, she wondered if she was just pretending, but no, she really did fall asleep that fast, and for the first time in a while, Byul followed suit within minutes.

Looking at her now, the pure magnitude of the weight she feels on her chest is indication enough that this was moving fast, maybe too fast.

She thinks about leaving without waking her, without saying anything, but she couldn’t do it. Not with the look she got when she asked her out last night. There’s something distinct, yet indescribable about all this she’s scrambling to get a hold of.

So she scribbles on the back of a sheet of lyrics she picks up from her bedroom floor, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

_Work calls… thanks for letting me stay. When you get around to looking at your big shot celebrity schedule, let me know. Rumour has it dates with me are… mind blowing. _

_M.B. _

* * *

Byul’s about to get in the elevator mid-day when she gets a text, and it’s not like she was particularly _waiting_ for anything, but still, that’s what it feels like when she pulls her phone out.

_Y: So… mind blowing? Should I be clearing my schedule?_

_B: Your fans would decimate me._

_Y: Good thing they tend to like the things I like… _

Yongsun lists off a couple dates after that, _ball’s in your court CEO…_

The moment she steps out of the elevator, Byul still has her head in her phone, so naturally, she collides into whoever was waiting to get in. She apologizes, but not before she sees Hyejin squinting at her from across the office. _You okay? _

She waves her off, leaving in another direction instead, and decides it’s probably best to reply to Yongsun in the confines of her own home.

By default, for the next while, Hyejin embraces a very typical– but incessant– tendency to prod at every aspect of Byul’s life. She should’ve seen it coming, and probably should’ve accepted her offer to go drinking that other night, perhaps that would’ve thrown her off.

But there_ is _a lot going on, and it’s not like her company would run itself, so maybe she has been a little out of sorts.

It’s why Hyejin pulls her into a studio one afternoon, tacky and dramatic, exactly the way Hyejin likes to operate, literally cornering her onto the couch and dragging a chair in front of her to block the exit.

Hyejin spins the chair around backwards, and plops herself down, her arms resting against the back, and legs split aggressively apart, placed into some kind of stance.

“Okay. That’s it. I can’t do it anymore.”

“We went over this.” Byul smiles sweetly and pats her hand, admittedly trying somewhat to get a rise out of her. “Just spit it out.”

“Tell me what’s going on.” The interrogatory tone of hers has her heart pounding a little faster; she can be quite demanding if she tries.

“What?”

“Don’t _what _me. I’ve been your friend for seven years.”

Byul rolls her eyes, bracing for the fact she’s going to have to say a little more than nothing to placate her inquisition this time.

“What do you think it is I do all day? Sit and scroll through Instagram? I’ve just… had a lot on my plate.”

“Is it your dogs?”

“What?”

“Sandeul asked me if it’s your dogs– said last he saw they were walking a little funny. I said they’re just getting a little chubby.”

“It’s not my dogs– ” she says exasperated, “–and, what the hell, they’re not _fat_. That’s how they walk.”

Hyejin shrugs and gives her a pointed look that has her slightly offended.

“I’m stressed.” Byul grits.

All that gets is a pure look of skepticism.

“I have hundreds of unread emails, and _idiots_ asking for ridiculous things to sign. And I’m still trying to finalize the release schedule for Solar’s song, so that people will actually _know _of Wheein’s existence_._”

Hyejin sighs like she already knows how the rest of the conversation is going to go.

“It’s about her?”

“It’s not. How is _that _what you took away.”

“Because I know you.”

Byul stays silent.

“And because you just assumed I wasn’t talking about Wheein.”

This was a losing battle the moment she said her name.

“It’s not about her.”

“There. That face. _That’s_ not normal. You suck at lying.”

Byul pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Let’s just talk about it…You’re going to end up doing something rash.”

Byul winces internally. _Fucking hell…Is she psychic?_ No one puts things like Hyejin does, blunt and to the point. No bullshit or nothing. Byul looks up.

“Define… rash.”

“Byul…”

A part of her knew it’d be like this the moment they entered this room. She would be lying to herself if she thought she could lie (to Hyejin) anymore at this point; it’s getting exhausting.

“_Fine_. Fine…” Byul mutters, looking away.

Byul sucks some air through her teeth in anticipation, taking enough time to think that Hyejin makes a noise of impatience.

“I… slept with her.”

Twice. That’s beside the point.

“_Byul,” _Hyejin gasps, then proceeds to close her gaping mouth slowly, letting the silence eat at them.

Well, she _wanted_ to know. Byul sneaks a glance at her.

“You could’ve led with that,” Hyejin says with her eyes closed.

“I didn’t plan it.”

“No, of course you didn’t.” 

The disdain in her tone makes Byul defensive. “But this isn’t _wrong_.”

“No.” She sighs. “It’s not.”

Byul watches her try and come up with something else for a long time, then she eventually says, “You sure know how to pick ‘em. She’s got half the country’s eyes on her.”

“I know what it looks like.”

“_Do you_?”

It makes Byul feel like a petulant child.

“I know things are getting progressive and shit, but you’re still female. That kind of thing wouldn’t stay contained, even within our company.”

Byul hesitates, prompting a look between them that’s clearer than words. It’s frustrating how transparent they are with each other sometimes. 

“I like her.”

She hates that it comes out small and exposed.

At first it looked like Hyejin was going to say something but she doesn’t, and her quiet words just hang there, magnifying itself. Her eyes scour Byul’s features, frowning in the way she does when songs don’t sound exactly how she wants them to.

Byul almost can’t stand the silence but then Hyejin exhales all her air in one go, looking like she lost the fire in her. “You sure about this?”

“No.”

“You’re going to have to be meticulous.” Her eyes narrows. “The media has enough time to wait around and catch you pick your nose.”

“_Now_ you’re okay with this.”

Something she couldn’t decipher flashes on her face. Hyejin’s lips purse unusually for a second, and then looks at Byul like all this is exhausting for her.

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen hit on you? Girls included.”

“What?”

“God knows what it is, but people just fall for you.”

She shrugs affectionately, as if she did know exactly what it is, then pauses.

“You have never said that about any of them.”

The point Hyejin’s trying to make is not lost on her. Still, she refuses to accept it, despite what her actions are beginning to prove.

“Would you stop blowing it out of proportions– I barely know what this is. I am not even _dating _her.”

“You want to though.”

That statement’s a little harder to refute; she only capable of starring back at her, a look of futile pleading. _Don’t make me say it._

“You know chances are you’re going to get hurt– ”

“I know–” Byul interrupts.

Hyejin continues, “– but you’ll do it anyways, heck, you’ve done it.”

There’s a finality to her tone, and then it’s calming, reassuring her of something she already knows: Hyejin would never _not_ have her back.

“Just…stop spacing out during meetings and– ” Her tone’s lighter now, mothering her a little. “–be careful, okay?”

“When am I not?”

“Always?”

Byul laughs at the face she makes, as if she tasted something horrible. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m really not,” she deadpans, “and please, just– tell me things. I can’t help if I’m in the dark.”

“I…don’t know– ” 

Hyejin throws her another very typical _Hyejin_-look.

“I’ll _try_, okay?”

“What am I going to do with you…”

Byul just grins weakly at her.

* * *

Yongsun’s in the middle of a photoshoot; it’s for something expensive, something she doesn’t understand how anyone would actually buy, but surprisingly, she’s enjoying this shoot. The photographer makes her laugh. He’s a little dorky, with glasses that sit far too low on his nose, but he treats her like she’s nobody different, a little crass with his direction, but with no ill-intent, and a toothy grin that keeps it light-hearted.

It has, however, been over an hour now and she’s starting to cramp. She lost feeling in her toes eons ago; they’ve put so much gel in her hair it has solidify into her scalp; and it’s getting really cold with that god damn fan blowing at her.

When she eventually steps out of her heels, an audible groan escapes her, and she staggers awkwardly on flat ground to reach her hung-up jacket, hands rummaging into the pocket.

She tries not to smile visibly when she reads Byul’s text.

_B: Don’t look too hot tonight. Pick you up at 7._

The things she says sometimes– ridiculous.

_Y: … Where are we going?_

By the time she climbs into the company car, her phone buzzes from her pocket.

_B: You’ll see…Also, don’t wear heels. Those things are evil. _

_Y: A woman after my own heart. Thank god._

_B: No need for that. Just thank me._

Her ability to catch every opportunity in being smug is impressive. It’s irritating how it’s attractive.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Yongsun’s things are still in disarray when the door rings. Mostly because it took a full hour to get that gel out of her hair, but partly because she went ransacking through her closet for the top she has on now. It was worth it; she has to admit she’s looking _fabulous_.

It’s why she’s a bit of a mess getting to the door, slightly out of breath, clutching her jacket and cap in her hands when she answers.

She feels like a teenager: nervous, overly eager to impress, driven by lust. And that’s worrying, because she wants this far too much.

“Hey,” she exhales.

Their interactions never fail to be unpredictable– no, they never fail to make her _act _in unpredictable ways. 

So despite her inhibitions, she finds herself kissing her before she even has a chance to finish her sentence.

Initially she had taken a moment to study the oversized corduroy jacket, casually paired with a plain black tee and ripped jeans. Then she was staring at her light brown hair, curled perfectly to balance the androgyny. But what probably set her off was Byul smiling at her, with her breathy reply_– hey, you– _like all this was just as nerve-wracking for her, and before she knew it, she was reaching for her, greedy and unexpected.

It’s _stupid_, because she’s only lucky there’s no one else in the hallway. So she has to apologize twice, once, for essentially attacking her, and the other for taking so long to get there.

It really doesn’t help that this is all setting up nicely to egg on Byul’s self-assured grin, after she recovered from the initial surprise of the kiss.

Yongsun realizes she’s still gripping on Byul’s jacket collar, and releases it awkwardly, smoothing it over before clearing her throat and apologizing.

“It’s okay. I’m _really_ not complaining.” Byul says, backing her into her own apartment for a bit more privacy, and Yongsun gets a quick flashback of what happened the last time they were like this, her heart picking up on reflex.

God, she has such little control over her thoughts sometimes.

She blinks away her moment of lust. “Sorry, I was trying to find…this.” She holds up the cap and mask in her hand.

It’s something she can’t really leave without anymore– if she wants to go anywhere interesting. It has progressively gotten worse. The simultaneous trade-off with _success_: a rapidly shrinking world around her.

Byul reaches to grab the cap out of her hand, hanging it off a hook on the wall. “You won’t need it.”

“I won’t?”

“No.”

“Okay… You still won’t tell me where we’re going?”

“Don’t you _want _to be surprised?” Byul smiles amusedly.

Yongsun throws her a dirty look. “So do I need to be blindfolded or something?”

The amusement in Byul’s face wracks up a notch, and then she’s peering mischievously at her. “I mean, if that’s what you’re into…”

Yongsun colours a little. “I meant– ”

She shoves her to hide her lack of words, and Byul straight up _giggles_.

“I’m serious,” Byul continues with her flaunt, winking for good measure, “you just let me know what you’re into.”

“Let’s go,” she cuts her off, and starts pushing her back in the direction of the door.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Yongsun keeps her curious line of questioning quiet for the most part of the trip. They hadn’t driven very far but it hasn’t been anything she could recognize for a while, and as Byul pulls off into a smaller road leading to, quite literally, the middle of no-where, she couldn’t help herself.

“So… when you said a date… you meant…?”

“A date.” Byul laughs. “We’re here.”

The car rolls to a stop and Byul steps out.

It takes Yongsun another glance around– spotting one other car in the lot– before she clambers out after her. Yongsun could still pick up remnants of city sounds, but they’re surrounded by greenery here. There’s a series of small signs by a wooden outhouse, and what appears to be an opening to a fairly well paved path.

“Where are we…”

“A place I discovered with a friend.” Byul grabs a backpack from the back and beeps her car locked. Yongsun stands about a foot away, curiously watching.

“Byul, we are going to die here.” She whispers the last part, clutching her heart with feigned panic.

Byul swats at her arm. “Don’t be dramatic. They light it up after it gets dark.”

“This is how I imagine an obsessed fan–” she gestures at Byul “– would kill me.”

“Obsessed?” Byul teases with the lift of an eyebrow, and Yongsun’s ready to outwit her until her eyes soften, an unusual shyness betraying her. “Maybe a little.”

Byul chuckles, “I thought it’d be easier, if you didn’t– if we didn’t have to hide from people all night.”

“Oh.” She looks away for a second, a smile tugging at her lips. It’s surprisingly sweet. “That’s… really nice.” She glances ahead after and murmurs playfully, “but _that’s_ a lot of steps…”

“There’s a viewpoint a couple minutes up. Come on…I _know_ you have stamina.” Her eyes gleam far too much for it to be innocent, but then says, “You danced for two straight hours at your concert.”

Yongsun holds back an urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, and at which point did I climb stairs?”

Byul swipes a finger under her chin with a click of her tongue. “I’ll race you.”

She dashes off before Yongsun gets a chance to respond to the action, blinking in a stupor.

“Byul!” She huffs before she starts after her, muttering, “you sneaky little shit.”

Not only does she take the head start and bolt off like a child, she doesn’t wait for her until she’s almost at the top, cackling at Yongsun from a distance. Yongsun’s heaving long before she sees the end, and she’s cursing inside because– how the fuck did she make it up there already?

“Okay– ” There quite a bit more panting when Yongsun reaches where Byul’s at. “What. The. Hell.”

But it’s really hard to be irritated, when Byul’s laughing with such an abundance of glee, stepping closer to fix her hair. “See, I knew you had it in you.”

Yongsun huffs at a piece that falls into her eyes again.

“I promise this gets better.” She holds out a hand for Yongsun; it’s warm, and the way their fingers interlock is encouraging. “We’re pretty much there.”

And they really are, because it’s maybe another five minutes before the path clears out to a much wider area, fit with a couple benches under a shelter. The moment they parked, she anticipated _some_ sort of view, but _this_… this was something else. There’s an expanse, overlooking the entire city, exuding a tranquility that contrasts everything that’s in it.

Byul starts speaking at Yongsun’s silence. “Okay, so I know you have your… million dollar view– which I absolutely appreciate– but this place… I… come here a lot.”

Yongsun looks at her briefly with a teasing squint of her eyes, _you come here a lot?_

“By _myself_. Who do you think I am?”

“A hot CEO…with far too big an ego.”

“You’re not wrong…”

She digs Byul in the ribs and laughs, taking a deep breath as she focuses at the distance. She backs them up until they’re sitting down on one of the benches at the edge.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah…” Byul trails. “Makes you feel small doesn’t it?” She stares straight ahead, eyes glazing a little as she speaks, and she’s looks so in awe of it all, Yongsun turns and watches her instead.

“Yeah, it does,” Yongsun says, softly. And somewhat of the blue, watching her side profile, she asks exactly what’s on her mind, “why'd you bring me here?” 

Byul looks confused for a moment.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know–”

She inhales rather deeply, thoughts circling in her eyes. “This place… it’s important to me, so I wanted you to– ” She stops with a sudden grimace of embarrassment, and rubs a hand against the back of her neck, avoiding Yongsun’s gaze altogether.

“I come here when I think too much, and it helps, because here, I get to feel like I’m standing outside, away from it all, and then some things don’t matter as much because everything – it’s all so… _small_." 

"And your hair looks far too good," Byul jokes. "It'd attract too much attention anywhere else."

Yongsun really has to fight it then, the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

“I’m glad you did,” she says instead. 

It’s moments like these that really surprise her, because surely it’s not normal to have to remind herself to _breathe_ when someone just looks at her. 

Byul clears her throat, twisting to grab her bag. “Okay. So you’re probably hungry…and I know this isn’t perfect, and it’s hard to pack everything– into…into this _bag_, so just bear with me– ”

A little puff of air escapes Yongsun. "You’re cute.” She couldn’t help it, the rambling and the gesturing– the words slipped out. 

Byul frowns for a second, really looking like she’s at a loss for words.

“Just show me what you brought,” Yongsun says, struggling to not break out into a huge smile.

She looks at Yongsun for another second and then starts pulling the zippers apart.

“Just for the record, I’m not cute,” she mumbles.

That huge smile is plastered across Yongsun’s face now. “Okay, Byul. You’re not.”

Byul proceeds to lay out several containers, handing her things in the process.

They spend the night eating with casual conversation, and Yongsun has to really split her time between staring at the view and at her, because who knew there was so much to look at. She starts to notice the quirks, the way she plays with her hair, and the way her nose scrunches up when she’s really laughing. Humour really does seem to come quite naturally to her.

Pretty soon there’s nothing really left in the containers, and Yongsun’s popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth when she started to pick up on what Byul was doing.

She didn’t really realize until Byul’s hand was steadily grazing her knee, drawing circles that drift, and she feels–

She’s just usually not so worked up.

It was the little touches. The hand that naturally glides up her arm as they laugh about something ridiculous, the fingers that play with the hem of her shirt, and the way her knee bumps into her when she shifts.

That smooth mother-fucker.

Yongsun grabs the hand on her knee, guiding it far higher than Byul had done, just to play along with whatever she started. 

It’s a rush. It’s always a rush.

The way she locks eyes after that–

Yongsun’s breath hitches so audibly in the silence.

She kind of loves the way Byul can’t really hide what she’s thinking. Or maybe she’s trying not to hide it for her, announcing it boldly so Yongsun can understand, because sometimes…she needs that.

It spurs her to lean forward, until her lips are right by her ear, and her body’s almost pressed up against hers. There’s really no reason to whisper, given that the last person to have walked past was probably more than half an hour ago, but just to see her react the way she does makes it easily justifiable.

“Take me home, Byul.”

Then she basks in the moment, fully anticipating the way Byul’s mouth slips open, and the delay before she nods, a little wide-eyed.


	9. Terrible things

The drive back is definitely not the same as when they came. Small talk was fine, until Byul asked about fashion choices for the single release.

And then it was something about suits or dresses.

And then, _jokingly_, she said she’d wear whatever Byul wanted her to wear.

And then Byul looked at her like she wanted to–

Fuck.

She crosses her legs, and looks out the window instead.

It’s maybe another five minutes, and she spends it playing with Byul’s hand, that’s resting on the console between them. Streetlights flicker from the windows, casting moving shadows that make it hard to read Byul's face. Then perhaps, just for a quick second, her resolve crumbles and she runs a slow hand up Byul’s thigh.

Byul’s hand moves quickly to cover hers.

“Are you _trying _to kill us?” She splutters under her breath, staring straight ahead.

Yongsun looks at her cheekily, the corners of her lips quirking at the sight of her mediocre attempt for control. “No.” She squeezes once and starts to pull back.

But Byul catches her hand mid-way to thread her fingers through, placing their hands back on the console. And doesn’t say a word.

Yongsun turns up the volume to have something else to focus on.

_ _ _ _ _ _ 

Yongsun’s trying to get to the light switch in the dark, and she knows where it is because this is her home and she’s done it a thousand times, but she misses.

The moment the door closes, Byul grabs her from behind, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back quickly. She gasps in surprise, losing her balance in the process. Before she even fully registers that movement, Byul turns her around and pins her against the wall.

Then stops moving and just holds her there. It’s a struggle for Yongsun to manage her bearings.

Byul's breath tickles.

And it’s exhilarating, to be so present in one moment. Yongsun laughs, teeth baring, as she tries to test the limits of Byul’s hold, wriggling under the weight, and wonders if maybe one of these days, they’d get past this hallway before their hands reach for each other.

“Couldn’t wait just a little longer?”

Byul’s mouth twitches. A haughty look. _Really?_ “You _can_?”

“Okay.” Byul shrugs and pushes off of her, letting up on the pressure. There’s no point of contact now, her body hovering over with the miniscule height advantage, and she makes a point of holding her palms up, not touching. Byul kisses her once. It lasts mere seconds, but it’s opened mouth and _filthy_, and she tugs at the end, with blunt teeth on her bottom lip, until it slips.

Her eyes are wicked, as she leans in again, only to flick the switch that Yongsun was originally aiming for, and backing quickly away into the apartment.

She is _infuriating_ sometimes.

Byul slips her jacket off slowly, letting it hang from a finger before it drops onto her couch. Then, gathers all her hair with both hands to sweep over one shoulder, tilting to expose part of her neck. 

Yongsun is determined to stand her ground. A button pops discreetly off on her shirt. She makes her way in after her, into the open kitchen, and pour herself a glass of water. She sips from the glass as they stare at each other from either sides of the counter, Byul perched at a distance on the armrest of her couch.

There’s no end to this kind of energy between them.

She waits for it.

Until, predictably, Byul’s features crumple, and Yongsun breaks into a full smile.

“Okay, you win,” Byul gets out and crosses the apartment in a rush, walking swiftly around the kitchen counter. She whines as she reaches out.

“You win”, she repeats against her lips. “Just– _touch me_.”

She clings to her amidst the onslaught of kisses after and Yongsun laughs, an almost soundless rumble from within her, only too willing to oblige.

It’s a frenzy of hands and lips.

Yongsun’s starting to accustom to the familiarity of their movements, finding the places that gets her making sounds much higher than the deep tones of her normal voice.

But that wordless whimper she makes– when Yongsun drops to her knees in front of her– _that’s_ new.

It creates an urgency that conversely makes every barrier of clothing more difficult to remove. She takes so long fumbling against the button of her jeans that Byul keens a little before reaching to do it herself.

They both moan.

It’s so unbelievably hot, to find her ready like that every time.

Now that Yongsun knows what makes her click, teasing her– until she tugs so hard on her hair it hurts– brings a whole new edge. For a while, her lips skirt everywhere but where Byul wants it, taking her time to appreciate how terribly erotic it is to see her, indecent, standing with her clothes half off. That is, until she growls and kicks her pants away, and Yongsun laughs, giving in for a brief period of time. Her knees are burning in this position, but that’s trivial, her motivation to break Byul far greater.

And there’s something to be said about the way Byul grips her hair, desperately trying to grasp at that control. It's always like that with her, a push and pull that makes her dizzy trying to keep up.

Byul’s nails dig into her scalp when she finally relents.

“–Don’t stop, d– don’t you fuc– dare– ”

It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t going to stop at that point anyways, her tongue flattens with intent, and a hand roams higher, far above Byul’s hips, to anchor them.

Even then, she struggles to hold Byul’s wild jerks against the counter when cries out. And looking up at her, she feels…

Uncomfortably wet. But there’s more than that–

It’s unprecedented, feeling this way at the sight of _someone else_ taking pleasure. It's warm. 

Then, much, much later– when Yongsun’s had her way more than once– and she thinks she’s _actually_ wrecked Byul for the night, there’s, instead, a surge of assertive energy in Byul’s eyes.

Some strands of hair stick to Byul’s face, as she takes her time catching her breath, downing and slapping down the entire glass of water Yongsun had poured earlier, only to utter breathlessly: “you’re going to be end of me.”

That makes Yongsun weak at the knees.

Byul heaves silently, dawning a blissful smile, propped against the countertop for support. And even words seem too much for her then, when she lifts a weak hand between them, beckoning with the curl of her index finger, _come here_.

Yongsun wastes no time, grabbing that tantalizing hand and tugging it where she needs it.

* * *

The next morning, Yongsun gasps when she looks into the mirror. “_Byul_. You– .”

Byul mumbles something she can’t make out, and Yongsun stalks back into her room, climbing crassly back onto the bed to shake her awake.

“Ow. _Yong_.”

“I have a _schedule_ today.” She collects her hair with one hand and extends her neck, a display of colours decorating her skin. Byul blinks sleepily up at her.

“Oh. Shit,” she mumbles.

“_Yeah_, shit.” Yongsun makes a noise of frustration, and maybe she’s reacting this way because she’s worried. This thing between them– whatever this is– was something that was _hers_. To see this sliver of evidence slip out made her uneasy, even though, rationally, it probably wasn’t that big a deal.

At that point more clarity settles in Byul, and she clambers to sit up straighter, grabbing Yongsun gently by chin and tilting for a closer look.

“Fuck…Sorry.” Byul runs her fingers down her neck, and Yongsun catches the slip of admiration there before she blinks and inspects. Her eyes close momentarily at the contact.

“I– I wasn’t thinking,” Byul stutters, and as she leans back, there’s a hint of something else, as if she’s done something _wrong_, and that’s really not what she meant. “No…” Yongsun gets out. “That’s n– ”

Her eyes fly to where Byul’s shirt rides up a little when she moves, and suddenly a soft laugh runs free.

“It’s… fine,” she says, faintly, her thumb reaching out to graze at similar marks on Byul’s hip, and Byul looks down at herself curiously. Yongsun shrugs and drops back into the bed, rolling into the space under Byul’s arms, sighing audibly.

“_Is it_?” Byul insists, against the top of her head.

“It’ll cover up. I’m sure my make-up unnie is bribable,” she says, airily, caught up in a feeling of content under her arms.

“I guess we’re not beyond bribes then.”

Yongsun feels relief at the tinge of playfulness in her tone. She chuckles, and pushes up onto her elbows to rest her chin on Byul’s chest, eyes narrowing with a flicker of blatant desire. “You make me do _terrible_ things.”

“Touché,” Byul whispers, brushing hair out of her eyes.

She lets herself get lost in that delicate gaze, even though she knows it’s dangerous when Byul looks at her like that, even though she knows it’s too much.

She pulls up to sit after. “You should go, my staff might come up later.”

Byul nods and stands to stretch lazily by her bed. “Tell me if this becomes an issue?” She gestures at her neck.

Yongsun hums a noise of acknowledgement, and watches her gather some of her things, scattered on her nightstand; because at every given opportunity that is just what her eyes end up doing.

On the floor by the bed, is Byul’s shirt, that was thrown aside like a rag, and Yongsun holds back a laugh, because Byul grumbles, “damn it, this shirt is expensive,” as she bends to pick it up. And then because she was just standing like _that_, taking her damn time, Yongsun slaps her ass.

It was thoughtless– hard to resist.

Byul straightens and turns abruptly, with startled wide eyes that morphs its way into a complete look of amusement.

“Are you trying to start something…?”

Yongsun falters, squeezing her eyes shut. “No… not really,” she says, unwillingly.

“Okay…” Byul replies, chuckling. “I guess I’ll just see myself out then.”

Yongsun makes a frustrated sound at her reaction, halfway between a laugh and a groan, and flops onto her back, pulling an arm up to cover both her eyes. “_Go,_ before I pull you back here.”

Byul laughs again, loud and bellowing this time.

But before she leaves, she walks back over, pressing soft lips to Yongsun’s forehead. And it’s all so domestic it’s painful.

Yongsun stays lying in her bed, face buried into her pillow, long after the door shuts.

* * *

Byul sees them talking before she enters. But even when she slides the studio door open, they don’t hear her.

Wheein and Hyejin are huddled in front of the computer, oblivious.

“ –just play it again.” Wheein says. “Here, let me show you.” She reaches to take the mouse out of Hyejin’s hands, replaying a clip of her own voice.

“ –What did you do?”

“Snipped those parts out and layered it.”

“Really? But–”

Wheein looks up from her seated position onto Hyejin, who was standing crouched over her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Hyejin-ah, it was too long,” Wheein says. Byul catches her eyes twinkling in some attempt to persuade.

Curiosity plagues her, so Byul crosses her arms and leans against the back wall, waiting for them to realize her presence.

“Really? Too long?” Hyejin frowns.

“Yeah, trust me.” Wheein murmurs softly, still peering up inquisitively at her.

“Okay.”

Byul clears her throat. And they both whip around at the sound.

“Byulyi-unnie,” Wheein says.

Hyejin straightens up and props herself against the table. “Hey. You’re early.”

“No… I’m really not.” Byul’s expression is impassive, but she couldn’t help but scrutinize them for a second, because– it’s maybe a little out of character. “What are you guys working on?”

“The album.” Hyejin states. “_Did_ you know,” She gestures vaguely at Wheein. “This one can master her own songs.”

Wheein counters with a smack to Hyejin’s arm. “Stop it. I can’t do it _well_.”

Byul smiles at whatever this new dynamic is. “Great. You can pick up on Hyejin’s slack then.”

“Oh, shut up. I can’t be rushed,” Hyejin pipes.

“I’m _kidding._ I’m _glad _you guys are working on the album.”

Byul brings up the upcoming single release after that. Perhaps if things flow nicely, the single will be just enough momentum for them to get an album out for Wheein. There’s no way to deny the fact that Yongsun’s presence will cut down the need for a lot of their promotional efforts.

The moment Byul mentions Yongsun, Hyejin flicks her eyes up at her.

She ignores that. She talks about the one stage performance Yongsun had agreed to do for this release instead.

“She has time for that?” Hyejin asks curiously.

“It’s a good song, Hyejin.”

“No need to boast about that again.”

Byul rolls her eyes, and redirects her conversation to Wheein. “You’ll get a stage debut with Yongsun the day after the release. You ready?”

Wheein embellishes a face that makes Byul cackle. "I take it nerves don’t go well with you.”

“I’ll be fine. I want this.” Wheein says with a degree of seriousness after.

“I know.” Byul holds back an impulse to ruffle her hair. It’s hard not feel a little protective over this one. “She’ll have some time to run it through with you next week. I’ll sort out the live arrangements soon.”

The whole time they talk, Hyejin stares curiously at Wheein, chewing at her lip like something didn’t quite make sense. She does this until Wheein turns, laughing quietly, “_what?_”

Hyejin shakes her head, _nothing_. “I don’t know why you worry. You’ll kill it.”

And Byul swears Wheein blushes.

It takes close to an hour before they’re done hashing out the details, but before she leaves, Byul lingers for a second, letting Wheein walk ahead of her before sliding the door close again.

“What was… that?” Byul says, and Hyejin just looks up confused from the phone she was typing into, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Huh?”

“_That._” Byul gestures at the computer and panels of equipment. “She’s playing with your settings?” Byul asks, genuinely a little bewildered. “You– let her mess with _your_ tracks?”

“It’s creative freedom.”

“You don’t let _me _do that!”

“_Please_.” She looks up at the ceiling. “Yes, I do.”

Byul tilts her head and glares a little.

Hyejin scoffs, then, weirdly, her eyes screw up in a grimace.

“She has that _one _dimple.” Hyejin mutters quietly, completely unlike her. “You try saying no to her.”

Byul splutters, eyes widening with the drop of her jaw.

“Wow.” She enunciates, amused, after a beat. “I had no idea.”

“Shut up.”

“Looks like I’ve finally been replaced.”

“_Jesus._” Hyejin shakes her head dismissively. “Don’t even start…you’re… never around these days.” She looks at her knowingly, and maybe there’s an element of truth to that, so a little bit of guilt tugs at her now.

“I– ” Byul sighs and her expression dissolves.

“No, you’re right. I’m… sorry.” 

Hyejin suddenly mirrors her change in tone. “Hey. No, no…That’s not what I meant,” her words are soft, “I get it. It’s a lot.”

“Still. It shouldn’t matter.” Byul reiterates, and closes her eyes for a second.

“What I _should_ have said was: thank god for Wheein, someone can finally keep your horrendous personality in check,” Byul lightens, and walks over draping her arm around Hyejin’s shoulders.

“You want to get that drink I missed last time?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

Hyejin laughs and leans against her, “Yes. But please don’t pretend you don’t need my _horrendous_ personality.”

Hyejin always manages to simplify complicated things.

* * *

For the next while, Byul doesn’t see Yongsun, not in person, and really not due to lack of wanting to. Yongsun’s schedule gets loaded to the point where Byul wonders if she’s able to keep herself afloat, holding onto a worry she has no right to.

Yongsun calls her one night, late, voice subdued, and asks how her week has been. And Byul almost laughs at how _she_ should be asking that question instead, wishing she never asked her to do the stage performance for their release tomorrow. But now they’re too far in, and even she didn’t have to the power to make that kind of change.

“Are you nervous?” Byul asks, knowing she called because the song was about to air.

“Byul, I _have_ done this before,” she laughs, softly.

“I kind of hoped this one might be a little more important.” Her honest admission hides behind her witty tone.

“It is.”

The reply is so simple, it surprises Byul. But mostly, it reveals how completely exhausted she sounds, and Byul spends their conversation trying to keep it light. Then, eventually, Yongsun tells her to hang up and call Wheein instead, who will inevitably be a million times more nervous than she is.

It’s sweet really, how she’s been looking out for her.

“Are you okay?” Byul couldn’t help but let a slip of concern divulge before she goes.

“Yeah… why?”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Because it’s not like she’s Yongsun’s _anything. _And it’s shitty, because the first words that came to mind were _I miss you_. And that’s, well, that’s not something she should say.

“No, nothing, you’re just a lot busier lately. Wanted to make sure the industry didn’t swallow you whole,” she jokes. It’s easier that way.

There’s a sequence of breaths that form a weak chuckle. “No one stays in the industry without getting swallow whole. But. _Thank you._ It's fine, it’ll clear up after I fly for a product release next week.”

“Hey. I’m sorry I asked you to perform," Byul starts.

“What?” A tinge of anger in her voice.

“You really didn’t need me adding onto all this.”

“Don’t.” It’s stern, and Byul could see her scowl just from the sound. “I _wanted _to. This song… it’s… ours.”

At that, Byul feels an intense wave of emotion, her breath gets caught in her throat and it swells, till it is a painful lump, and she swallows.

“And Wheein’s.” Yongsun huffs, a lot more lighthearted. “God, I love that girl. So much talent.”

Byul laughs, a little taut from trying to hide all that affection, _wishing_ this wasn’t said on the phone. “You’re good for her.” She admits quietly. “There are some things I just won’t understand, as someone behind the scenes.”

“I’m happy it’s that way.” A small sigh. “So, don’t.” It’s weaker this time, barely audible. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay.” Byul implores, gentle, throbbing at Yongsun’s rare slip of vulnerability. “I won’t.”

“Well…go on then. Call her.”

A subtle smile. “Yeah, I will.”

* * *

It’s cute, how she’s so anxious. Her squeals of anticipation get muffled into what sounds like a cushion she’s probably crushing with her hands.

Wheein makes a small noise of disbelief, when the initial response is overwhelmingly positive, and Byul couldn’t help but chuckle and say, “told you.”

“You’re a _debutante _now.” Byul teases.

“A what?”

She laughs. “Never mind. Go sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sleep?” And in that very moment, she might as well be a kid.

“Yes. You’re going to need it, Wheein-ie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha, just a sniff of Wheesa. I always planned to have elements of them but they’re not going to be huge part of the story. It is, however, impossible to not include a little… And, really. Thanks for the comments/kudos, you all are just the nicest.


	10. Say It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah....so it’s been a while. I know.... I put the story down for a while… then spent a little longer mulling over this one (mostly because I was not a writer in any sense before this kind of stuff, and need to work on how to progress a story) *insert apologetic face* If you’re still following this, kudos to you.

Byul is loitering.

She knows it. She’s here loitering, watching Wheein get ready for the stage, because she can. And Yongsun’s about to show up.

That is distinctly _not _the reason why she’s here though. Wheein deserves that much.

Whatever positive response the release initially had has segued into an air of anticipation. This dynamic between the two of them (Wheein and Solar) a current hot topic. And now there’s this waiting, to see what they can pull off.

She’s stands out in the corridor, making idle conversation with Wheein’s stylist, because Wheein is staggeringly fitted for the white suit she has on right now. They’ve curled her light brown hair into long waves, and excessively put, she’s fucking glowing. Undoubtedly, she’ll gain a lot of attention fast, the question is, are they ready for it?

“Byulyi!”

Byul spins at the hand that wraps around her shoulder.

The surprise is evident as they pull her into a hug.

“Dahee-unnie?!” Byul leans in reflexively, recognizing the friendly face.

“Hey.”

“It’s nice seeing you…” Byul smiles and steps back to hold her at arm’s length. Looking up, she laughs. “Jesus. I forget you’re like a giant. Do you really need those heels?”

Dahee’s eyes crinkle amicably. “They accent my legs.”

“Of course they do.” Byul states, a sense of familiarity passing between them.

They’ve been friends since Byul could remember, when she was still training to debut– a nobody– with a rather poor sense for how the industry worked. Dahee never cared for trying to one-up everyone else– genuine in a smart kind of way, the kind that didn’t let people step all over her, maybe that’s why it works. She’s saved Byul’s ass a couple times, staying behind to fix her choreography at the beginning, and not in the superficial, bullshit way most others do.

“I like your new song, by the way,” Byul says.

Brows raise.

“_Really_?” She pokes a finger at Byul’s shoulder. “So you _have _been paying attention.”

Byul lets out a deep chuckle, sighing after. “It's been a little hectic recently.”

“Of course it’s hectic. You can’t stop and _sit_ for a second. What are you _doing _here?”

“I’m debuting a new artist.” Her eyes flare with a certain mischief.

“Right. Okay– ” Dahee holds a hand up, “I will never fully accept that you just upped and became a CEO.”

“Well, it only took several years,” Byul bites sarcastically.

“Which I’m pretty sure is short.” 

“You and I both know that I would’ve never lasted performing.”

“We don’t know that… But– ” Dahee puts the back of her hand against her lips, dramatizing a whisper. “I hear you’re kind of important now.”

Byul shoves her back, pulling half a smile. “_Stop._”

“I’m serious.” Her expression softens. “It's not easy.”

“Don’t get all soft on me. If you need a favour, just _ask,_” she laughs.

Dahee fakes a gasp. “Don’t discredit me like that.”

She looks curiously at the door Byul’s been loitering around, gesturing at it briefly. “So… who’s this new artist I should keep an eye on?”

Byul inches the door open from the corridor, peering inside for a moment. “Okay, here.” The both of them bend awkwardly to look, uncharacteristically appearing like nosy teenagers for a second.

“She’s… in the chair.”

“She’s… cute.”

Byul scoffs and lets go of the door, straightening. “Wait until you hear her sing.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Don’t you need to be, like, performing?”

“Oh.” A glance at the phone in her hand. “Crap.”

“I guess nothing's changed." Byul laughs. "We can catch up sometime soon.”

“I’m going to hold you to it…!” She scurries off in small little steps with her heels.

Byul gets a flash of déjà vu as she sees people move around pre-occupied with their tasks, a wave of nostalgia of when _she_ was set to perform. She would’ve never thought it’d be like this. She’s glad she didn’t stick with it; it’s much better like this, telling other people what to do.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Inside the room, staff are crammed together, and Wheein’s laugh travels distinctly across. She’s sat in a chair in front of her mirror, hair frizzed up in several directions, and the hairdresser puts down a hair dryer. He tries to pat it down. It doesn’t really cooperate. And Wheein swats at the floating strands, comical and– honestly– completely random. Byul chokes into a laugh, and catches other staff trying not to smile.

This side of Wheein was unanticipated. The unapologetic spontaneity that spills with her laughter, it’s contagious.

Byul rummages at the back, where they keep all the snacks, and ignores one of the confused looks from her staff when they realize their CEO is sitting in the back of a fitting room, eating a cookie.

A bunch of people eventually bustle in. Yongsun walks in, or actually– struts in from behind, with a quiet kind of confidence, bowing politely to the rest of the room, and walks up to Wheein to ask how she’s doing.

Byul feels out of place here, watching from afar, eating her cookie. It’s a tad ridiculous. Almost as much as the black top Yongsun was wearing. No– it’s less than that. It’s cloth that covers the minimum, dipping down far enough you don’t have to guess much, all tolerably hidden by a slim cut black suit jacket.

Slacks. Black heels. Her blonde hair is a striking contrast.

She considers if she should go over there and cover her up in some way. Not because it’s inappropriate or _too much, _but for far more unreasonable, selfish reasons, like how she wants to be the only one that gets to see her like that.

Yongsun’s still chatting casually with Wheein, and in subtle movements her eyes sweep the room.

Byul tenses when they find her, even when she knows it’s coming. Whatever that’s there, it’s hard to tell if it’s in anticipation of the performance or because of the stolen nature of these glances. It’s exhilarating in all the wrong ways.

Yongsun releases the one button holding the jacket together. Then looks at her again. One action after another.

And Byul _knows_, what she’s trying to do.

She’s bordering on irritable when she eventually strides over, where Yongsun is setting down her belongings in a corner, a second of false privacy.

“_This_ is what you ended up choosing?” Byul hisses.

Yongsun doesn’t look at her, but in her mischievous, airy voice she says, “They told me, and I quote, ‘you can wear black and Wheein can wear white.’ There was no mention of what to do _under _the suit.”

“You– ” She’s fucking with her.

She might as well look. Her eyes drift, dipping exactly where it’s not supposed to, greedy with its gaze. It’s all so teenage she has the decency to blush– 

“Well, I like it.” Yongsun states, matter-of-factly. “It’s not what I’m normally get to wear.” She brushes Byul from behind as she maneuvers to place something on a nearby table.

The proximity weighs heavy, and Byul pretends she doesn’t know what it’d be like to roll her hips backwards.

“You are _exhausting_.” She mutters, turning around.

Yongsun stops and smiles weakly, as if she had just called her beautiful.

“Well, _do you_?” Yongsun says after a beat. “Like it, I mean.”

“_Yong._” It’s an embarrassing, throaty noise. Completely out of place and context.

She watches Yongsun break a little, “So yes then," Yongsun says, but it lacks any of the confidence from before. 

She grimaces with a glance to the ceiling and Yongsun laughs freely.

“I’ve missed that sound.” Byul says, without any sort of thinking.

The slip is obvious. But Yongsun barely flinches, and just stands chewing on her bottom lip, the only telling sign an unusual stillness. “I’ve missed making it.”

“Right.”Byul clenches her hands to collect herself. 

They’ve spent far too long back here.

And Yongsun hesitates, looking like she wants to say something. Except she doesn’t.

“Go on, go get your make-up done.” Byul sighs instead. She takes a large breath as Yongsun walks away.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Shuffling amongst the dark, beside sound equipment and cameras, and endless loops of wires, Wheein fidgets with the in-ears, twisting awkwardly to adjust the monitor straps under her suit again.

Byul takes a couple brisk steps up to her.

“_Stop. _Stop. It’s secure. You’re good,” she says, stilling her arm with a hand.

“I’m sweating.”

“It’s normal.”

“No, I’m _really_ sweating.”

Byul takes both her shoulders, _here let me take a look. _“A little sweat looks good.”

Wheein throws her a mildly condescending look.

“You’re _fine_. Ignore everything else. Look at me– your voice is out of this world. You’re hot. Go do your thing. _Enjoy_ it. Besides, you have her with you.” She gestures in Yongsun direction, where someone is fiddling with her hair, a spray can in one hand.

She looks at Byul for a moment, a defeated pout. Whining audibly, she picks up a bottle standing on the ground, and sips at the water.

To Wheein’s dismay, Byul laughs loudly.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The stage is simple, to accent the somewhat noir theme they were going for with the black and white, a couple rose petals dancing on the screen in the back. Granted, that wasn’t what Byul was planning when she wrote the song, but it is _working_ for them.

The red lipstick was a good touch.

It’s the expensive kind. The kind that doesn’t come off when Yongsun’s tongue darts out to lick it. Sure, it’s a stage move, and she’s supposed to be here observing– professionally– but fuck, she’s only human, and it’s really hard trying to split her headspace like that.

They don’t make eye contact once during the performance. It’s better that way– too many cameras.

They nail it. Of course. That one second of pause, where Yongsun catches eyes with Wheein, breaking into perfect harmony, it’s… special.

The two of them bristle with energy, glaring into the camera at the last shot.

Byul wraps Wheein in a hug as she walks away from the area, to which she feigns disgust at before leaning in comfortably.

Yongsun walks up to them. “How was it?”

Byul shrugs nonchalantly. “It was…mediocre at best,” she says grinning.

Yongsun rolls her eyes. “I’d hit you, but there are witnesses.” She looks over to where Wheein is standing. “That- was _brilliant._”

Byul smiles. "Confidence looks good on you.”

Someone rushes over to pull equipment off them, and they extract themselves from the wires that weave around to hand them off. It’s only after everyone else meanders ahead, that Byul dares to make a small tug on the tail of Yongsun’s jacket.

She just needed to say it once.

“You did good today.” There’s whole lot more to be said, but, she’s pretty sure she gets her point across. “_Really _fucking good.”

Yongsun huffs a breath, with the same exasperated smile she always pulls at her. “I know.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

They are wrapping up to leave when a clacking of heels burst through their room door. Byul scuffs down a noise trying not to laugh at the sight of Dahee taking quick littles steps towards her.

Byul plants a hand of her hip. “Why do you wear those things when you can barely walk?”

“I’m walking right now. _Daintily._”

“Yeah, that’s not what _that_ was.” She waves up and down at the door.

“And to think I ran here to give you this before I left.” She hits Byul on the shoulder with a copy of her album in hand.

“Ow.” Byul rubs at her arm. “Give me that.” She examines the box flipping it back and forth, and makes a low noise.

“I signed it.”

“Then is it worth something if I sell it now?”

Dahee shoves her by the shoulder.

Byul laughs. “Unnie, it looks good. The gold’s a good choice there.”

“I’m trying out a new look.”

“I think footwear needs to be reconsidered.”

Dahee rolls her eyes. “Okay, well, I have to go.”

She pulls Byul into a hug, a full genuine hug like she always does, her hand going to fix Byul’s tucked hair. She pulls it out from under the collar, and slides a hand down her arm to squeeze her wrist.

“_Text me, _yeah?” Dahee murmurs.

“Yeah, yeah.” Byul mirrors a wave, moving to pick up her things.

And then there’s Yongsun, standing quietly by the coat rack, perhaps stiller than usual.

She looks away when Byul looks, moving to take quick strides towards the door.

Before Byul could decide what that was, Yongsun’s gone with her staff, and she’s left standing there, wondering if she just imagined it all.

* * *

Byul doesn’t hear from her.

It’s not usually like this– even when they’re both busy out of their minds– there are witty texts that make her roll her eyes.

But still, it’s not like any of this _means _anything.

It just this weird sensation– a light fluttering that persists inside her. Since she left the stage she has convinced herself that she’s been working, when really, the idea of showing up at her door unannounced is all-consuming. It’s not like she hasn’t done that before.

She doesn’t though.

But Yongsun does.

Close to midnight, she materializes in Byul’s lobby without so much as a word, only tired eyes that tell nothing. It always feels different, seeing her in person, and that fluttering from before seems insignificant to whatever it is now.

“Hey.” A weak smile.

“_Yong?_” Byul manages to say. “Aren’t you… flying tomorrow?”

Yongsun shrugs, apathetic.

They’re barely inside her place and there are obvious thoughts running through Yongsun’s eyes, words that sit at the tip of her tongue. The silence is almost irritating.

But then Yongsun sighs, features dissolving. Whatever she was thinking about seems to have expired. She steps right into her space, attaching lips to hers. Byul barely has time to swallow her surprise, a muffled sound.

Fingers claw deep into Byul’s hair, tangling into it, an urgency to it, messy. Just enough to make her unsettled. 

It’s easy to fall into though. _This_ they were good at. The sense of relief at the contact– she didn’t know she was waiting for this.

Byul doesn’t stop the sigh that rushes out of her, her body molding instinctually against the pressure.

But those lips are demanding, a sharpness to them that’s out of character, yet Byul lets her, opening willingly and following those hands that crave attention. It’s not like she has a choice. She has long since realized this. Now that she has her in her arms, it’s only filled with something desperate– something insatiable. She steadies herself, her hands gripping onto her shirt.

“Fuck. I’ve missed you,” Byul murmurs. It’s only because of her drifting focus it slips.

Yongsun pulls back.

For a second, Byul thinks there’s even a hint of anger there, a small pause before she kisses Byul again, even more fervently. Someone moans. Byul quivers when she releases her, somehow finding it in herself to hold her back, a light hand on her chest.

“Wait– wait.” Byul heaves.

Yongsun just breathes with a flicker of uncertainty.

“You okay?” Byul asks.

Byul’s met with a look of confusion, more silence. And suddenly the hum of her air conditioning seems much louder than usual. She sighs, needing to ask this. “It– what is this, a booty call?”

That seems to stir something.

“What?” Yongsun frowns, and her hands drop from Byul’s waist, apparently sobering up. “_No_.” She looks flustered for a second. “No– it’s not. Why would you– never mind.” She sighs, realizing something. “It’s not.”

“Okay…”

“Sorry, I should’ve called.” Something flashes across Yongsun’s face again, something Byul still couldn’t read, but for the first time, she looks _shy_ when she says, “I just– I guess I wanted to see you.”

Byul smiles at that. “You guess?”

“Why do you make everything so difficult?” But there’s no bite to her words, and Byul laughs instead.

“How did you even find my place?” Byul asks.

Yongsun scoffs lightly. “Your secretary.”

Byul makes a lilted sound, and Yongsun says, “Don’t worry. She’s plenty protective over you. Don’t think she’s just going around handing out that information.”

There’s just enough grate in her voice to make Byul raise an eyebrow, a curious expression playing across her face. “I think… that’s her job.”

“Right.” Yongsun mutters, evading her gaze now, apparently unsure of what to do with herself now that they’re both just standing there.

“What is it?”

Yongsun looks up. “What? Nothing.”

Byul gives her a pointed look, then shrugs and steps back, knowing the silence works better anyways.

“Just– ” Yongsun starts, and Byul stops moving. “How many women are we talking about?”

“What?”

“Women that like you.” Yongsun takes a step back, looking like she couldn’t believe she just said that.

Byul splutters. “Women that _like _me?” Suddenly amused, a warm laugh spreads from within her. She had an inkling what this was, she just wasn’t expecting this much of _whatever_ this is.

“Don’t put it like that,” Byul says.

“Like what?”

“I’m not– ” Byul chuckles. “Nobody _likes _me, not like that. And…” She hesitates. “Dahee’s just _like_ that. I’ve known her since we were– basically– _kids_.”

“So you _do _know who it is.”

Byul shrugs this time. “It just…you left without saying anything earlier.”

Yongsun glances at the ground, looking much smaller than before. “Don’t be dense,” she sighs, shifting her weight onto one hip. “People _like _you.”

“I don’t know– ” Byul shrugs freely again. “ –maybe.” She takes some of Yongsun’s fingers in her own. “But…_I don’t_.”

Byul studies the way Yongsun’s brows stay furrowed, a silent kind of brooding. She doesn’t laugh this time, but is unable to suppress her broad smile. 

“God, you’re cute like this.” Byul utters. 

She reaches for Yongsun’s hips again, despite the deepening look of disapproval, anchoring the two of them together in the middle of her living room.

“_See_.” Yongsun whines and plants both palms on Byul’s chest, a show of pushing her away. “This. It’s probably because you’re always like this. Calling people _cute_, and– and being…like _this_. ”

Byul cackles this time. “What would you rather me call you?”

“Not _me_. Other people.”

Byul cocks an eyebrow up. It takes a second for Yongsun to realize what she said, and she flushes a different shade. With a frustrated noise, Byul takes the two hands on her chest into her own. Her voice softens considerably as she pulls her closer.

“You can’t _possibly_ not know by now that I’m not seeing anyone else.”

Yongsun stares. A piercing scrutiny.

The silence has Byul feeling a little restless.

“What are we doing?” Yongsun asks quietly.

At that, a hint of irritation flares inside Byul. She loosens her hold on Yongsun’s hands, the sudden change of the emotion obvious on her face.

Because Yongsun has been quite clear how much of herself she was willing to share. And as much as Byul wanted to deny it, and as much as it would hurt her to do it, she knows she will always take however much Yongsun was willing to give.

But then Yongsun’s face scrunches up in frustration, Byul’s thoughts apparently clear to her.

“I– I know what I said before. _I know_. I just don’t know if I– It’s just– You–” She groans. “You make me _so–_”

Everything is smothered by the throbbing in Byul’s stomach.

Yongsun runs a shaky hand through her hair instead, gaze scattered.

“You have to say it Yong,” Byul says, her voice weirdly strangled now. “What do you want?”

It’s one thing to stare because she doesn’t know what to say, but it’s something else entirely if Yongsun looks at her like she’s at wits’ end, like she’s something that’s not supposed to exist.

“Look- My life is… messy.” Yongsun says, waving a hand around.

She looks so on edge that Byul almost stops her, just to tell her it’s okay, or something.

“I was set on living my messy life alone. I am _good _at being alone. Fucking brilliant.” Yongsun scoffs and takes a step back.

“Most of the time I barely remember what I did yesterday, because everything just _happens. _People tell me where I need to be, where I’m going next. And it’s fine. I chose this. That’s how it is, all of this, all this _time_, it just… _passes_. But now I don’t– It isn’t the same…” Yongsun reaches a hand out only to drop midway. “With you… _I swear to god,_ time is different.”

Byul is trying but _fuck_ is it hard to breathe.

“I know. I’ve said too much.” Yongsun laughs crudely, her fingers tangling reflexively in her own hair again. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore.” Those wide eyes squeeze shut then open looking exhausted. “Can’t you just be _mine_?”

The pure panic she sees in Yongsun after those words is something she’s never seen.

“_Yong_.” Byul says it just to make that panic go away a little. Her fingers go to touch her neck, and Yongsun twitches when she grazes lightly. It’s all so delicate, this moment, she’s scared she’ll ruin it.

“I don’t think you get it,” Byul says, softly, an almost smile tugging at her lips. “You had me a long time ago.”

Yongsun looks up at her completely lost.

“_Really_?” Byul chuckles, taking a step closer, her fingers following its usual pattern, to tuck ruffled blonde hair behind an ear. “And you say _I’m _dense.”

Slowly, and with hesitation, Yongsun mirrors her smile.

Byul has seen her smile before, many times now, wide goofy grins that radiate content, but this time, it’s simple, and honest, and entirely real. She doesn’t think _anyone_ has ever looked at her like that. But then, she’s never wanted anything like this.

She kisses her again– this time slow and languid, enough for her to get lost in it.

“Is it obvious now?” Byul murmurs against her neck.

Yongsun laughs lightly, her body shaking against Byul’s. “That you’re mine?” She asks, but it’s not a question this time, and Yongsun pulls her close, arms wrapping entirely around her.

“Yeah,” Byul says a little stupidly. But still, she has go and ask, “Then what about…everything else…”

They both know what she’s referring to, and Yongsun softens against her. “It’s okay.” Her hand slips down to Byul’s wrist; a thumb rubs back and forth on her pulse. A certain calm settled in her now.

“It’s okay,” she repeats, pulling on Byul’s hand to tug her over to the couch. She sits down, starring up at the somewhat vacant look on Byul’s face, an easy smile spreading. “Maybe some things are worth risking for.”

Byul lets her pull her by the hand, guiding her until she’s on her, straddling her thighs. Her heart races. She says nothing, and lets their eyes do the talking. Because if this was a mistake, it’s one she’d wholeheartedly make, again and again.

“So about all these women…” Yongsun trails, with coy narrow eyes.

All Byul does is laugh freely.

Her voice hitches when Yongsun’s hand slips under her shirt, reaching up quickly for her breast. She shudders. 

“That’s not fair.” Byul breathes against her.

Byul pulls Yongsun's hand out from under her shirt, taking both her wrists together to hold them hostage. It takes a second, for the want inside her to settle. “Yong, you’re fucking exhausted.”

“I’m sure I could manage…”

Byul clambers off her clumsily, yanking Yongsun upwards with several decisive tugs. “Come on. We’re sleeping.”

Yongsun groans as she’s pulled up. “_Really?_”

Byul plants a kiss on her forehead, once, and Yongsun stops, blinking softly at her.

“Come on…” Byul murmurs, and they pad their way across the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the untimely character addition is well embraced, I just had to include this cliché chapter.


End file.
